


When You Love Somebody

by dnawhite76, Prubbs



Series: Hard to Think [1]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Dating parents, Hockey, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, NHL, Prequel, Single Parents, Sports Related Homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-08-20 12:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 42,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16555967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dnawhite76/pseuds/dnawhite76, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prubbs/pseuds/Prubbs
Summary: When U Love Somebody is the companion Story to Bite Your Tongue that tells you all about our favorite team of Dads, Bruce and Clark and what got them together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _“It is an absolute human certainty that no one can know his own beauty or perceive a sense of his own worth until it has been reflected back at him in the mirror of another loving, caring human being.” - **John Joseph Powell** , THE SECRET ART OF STAYING IN LOVE_

**CHAPTER ONE**

 

“Knights win 5-0,” was the first thing Bruce saw that morning when he picked up the paper. His back twinged when he reached to grab it. He had hoped that the last of his back issues were behind him. Having Zod cross check him the night before was probably the cause. He would have to check in with a trainer when he got to practice. He rubbed his back as he walked back up the drive reading the article. It went on to talk about their lead in points going into the All-Star break. He grumbled as he pulled his jacket off and hung it up by the door. His boots followed.

He'd been looking forward to the break. Each year that passed he dreaded All-Star selection more and more. He simply wanted to rest. He had wanted to spend the weekend at home with Jason, watch some movies, eat some burnt popcorn because no matter how many times they tried to pull it out early they still managed to burn it. Instead he was going to play a game, that was worth nothing, and talk to reporters all weekend. His back was aching just thinking about the lack of rest he'd be getting. 

He was thinking about the ice bath at the arena when he heard the garage door shut. Selina walked in carrying one of her oversized bags that had always reminded him of Mary Poppins. She had laughed when he told her that a few years ago, back when Jason was a baby and her bags held everything from breast milk to diapers to the pair of Bruce's shoes that he'd been missing for weeks. She had replied that Mary Poppins wished she had her style. He was pretty sure that she kept the big purses because that image amused him, even when she no longer needed to carry their entire world in her bag. 

“Hi,” he offered and flipped over the newspaper to continue the article about the latest fundraiser WE had hosted. He heard her move around the kitchen before she stopped at the other end of the table. He glanced up and she had her hands pressed flat against the table and was breathing deeply. It was one of her calming techniques. He set the paper down.

“Bruce,” she looked up and he looked back at her shimmering emerald eyes. “Why are we married?” he blinked at her. 

“Because we love each other?” he offered with a half laugh when she kept looking at him. It was a pretty lousy joke she was playing. 

“Is that enough?” she asked. He was confused. She looked serious, but he definitely thought it was enough. “I've been gone for three weeks. You just said ‘hi’. Did you even notice I was gone?” He didn't know how to respond. He had noticed, of course he had, but he didn't think  _ that  _ was really the question she was asking. “I love you. I do, but I don't think I want to be married anymore.” 

“Is there someone else?” he asked. She shook her head quickly and looked hurt that he'd ask. 

“No. There is no one else. I would never do that to you.” She watched him as if she could will him to believe her, and he did. He had to. “When was the last time we had sex?” she asked, hands flying through the air as she started pacing. “When was the last time we fought?” 

“This feels like a fight,” he offered. She smiled briefly before stopping at the end of the table. 

“Bruce…” He knew in that moment that she was done. She had made up her mind. She'd always been decisive ever since they were kids. She'd told him two months after they had first held hands that they were getting married. She had told him to choose his own happiness for once and play hockey when she'd found him hyperventilating in the men's room after high school graduation because he didn't know what he was going to choose. She had taken one look at their son and had decided what his name should be, a name that hadn't ever been on either of their lists, but one that had immediately felt right. She apparently was also the one that had decided their marriage was over. 

“I think we just need to take a little time off,” she continued. “Get some perspective.” He knew though that their time off would be permanent. It felt odd that he wasn't more upset. She was the love of his life, the mother of his child, and she didn't want to be married to him anymore. It hurt, but the same way a bruise hurt. He looked up at Selina. Maybe she was right. 

“What about Jason?” he asked. 

 

-

 

They had definitely fought then. They'd yelled at each other, digging up old arguments and tearing into old wounds, until Jason came downstairs. They both stopped at his watery eyes peeking around the doorframe. He dropped down into his chair, defeated, while Selina moved to hug Jason. He watched as the boy clung to his mother. 

The next morning the manor was empty. Selina had decided she was going to take Jason to the beach for the weekend. She'd told him that she would explain to Jason what was going to happen. He'd felt the need to argue, but he didn't have it in him anymore. 

He packed up his gear for the weekend. He didn't think it was possible, but he wanted to go even less. He set his bag by the front door. An idea hit him and he jogged down the stairs to the rink. His father had been livid when he'd found out that he'd turned the massive family wine cellar in the caves below the manor into a full sized rink for Jason's fifth birthday. It had marked the beginning of the end of his relationship with his dad. Just another thing added to the list of disappointments. The list had started with him marrying Selina. He wondered if the divorce would improve his standing or if it would just be another point on the the list. If he knew his father it would just be another point of contention between them. He'd tried something and had failed. Waynes didn't fail. He grabbed one of Jason’s sticks from the stand. He stopped and looked around the room. Jason’s skates were scattered in the corner. He couldn’t decide on a pair he liked best and had been switching between them. He knew which ones he’d end up picking, the brand that his favorite player had worn since he first joined the league. Bruce knew though that he was hesitating, knew that Jason felt obligated to like his dad’s. He straightened up and headed up when his phone chirped that his car to the airport had arrived. 

He met one of the PR interns at the airport. She smiled and held her hand out. He was surprised by her grip as she introduced herself, “Hi, I’m Jillian. Your babysitter for the weekend.” She looked nervous, but was working through it. 

“Do you want to get a coffee? Or maybe something stronger,” he asked as he walked away toward the shop across from their gate. 

“Uh, I don't drink,” she said with an appraising look. “I was told you didn't either,” she added after a moment. 

“To get through this weekend… I might,” he grumbled to himself. He ordered his coffee and waved for Jillian to place hers. He couldn't help the grin at the shameless way she ordered her monstrosity of a coffee. 

On the plane, she sat against the window looking out at the terminal as the flight attendants went over the safety procedures. He appreciated the silence. The last intern he'd gotten stuck with had talked the entire flight. Jillian popped in her ear buds and opened her laptop as soon as they'd reached cruising altitude. He dozed for the first hour or so of the flight. It was always a little strange flying commercial. It was so much quieter without the team shouting about their card games and the general ruckus that came with getting twenty hockey players in an enclosed space. He gave up on sleeping, he kept rethinking his argument with Selina and the tears on Jason's face. 

They'd been happy six months ago. They'd been on vacation as a family. Every year for the last two weeks before school started back up they traveled. This summer had been Italy. He flipped through the pictures on his phone. Jason and Selina holding up the leaning tower. Jason and himself posing in front of David. He remembered Selina's heated comment after that. Eating gelato in front of the Pantheon. Jason spent most of the afternoon sucking pistachio bits off of his cone and spitting them into the air so he could snatch them back up. Pictures of them at the beach. Jason had blushed the entire day any time someone walked by them, in a bikini that wasn't much more than strings, or a speedo. He thankfully had talked Selina out of wearing one, she'd gotten him the smallest pair of trunks possible, but they at least covered the tops of his thighs. Selina had soaked in the sun for most of the day. She'd had an early flight the next morning, unexpected reshoots cutting her trip short. She'd insisted that they keep going. He'd run around and thrown Jason into the waves and raced him to the buoys out in the water until the sun started to set. Jason tapped away at his phone on the chair next to them. He'd invaded Selina's lounge chair, curling around her until she settled half on his shoulder. They'd watched the sun set and it had been good, great. She'd been gone for three weeks after that and had missed Jason's entire Thanksgiving break, but that day on the beach had been perfect. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Jillian said. He realized he'd been staring at his lock screen for a while. “Are you okay? You seem different.” He looked again at Jason and Selina making funny faces before setting his phone down. 

“I'm getting divorced.” It didn't feel any more real as he said it outloud, the charged silence of the cabin left it feeling like a dream. 

“From Selina Kyle?” Jillian asked, eyes wide. 

“She  _ is _ my only wife,” he muttered. 

“Oh wow. That's- Are you- I'm sorry.” He looked over to her, she seemed genuinely upset for him. “I can try to shift some of these interviews off to other players,” she said looking down at their schedule for the weekend. 

“No, it's okay. I'll need the distraction.”

“The alcohol comment makes so much more sense now. Umm. Have you told anyone?” she asked. He shook his head. “Oh wow. Just me?” she turned and stared at her laptop for a few moments, fingers poised over the keyboard. 

“We haven't filed, but it's happening. We're not ready for anyone to find out,” he said pointedly. 

“Oh yeah, no. I understand. I'm a vault.” She mimed locking her mouth and throwing away the key. He grinned despite himself. She smiled back. “Okay, so I guess we could go over the broad strokes of the schedule?” she asked. He nodded and she turned the laptop so he could see. They had barely finished when the fasten seat belts sign came on and they started their descent into Star City.

 

-

 

The first day was a series of interviews in the morning and the draft that night. He couldn’t remember a single thing he'd said during the interviews, but Jillian had shot him a thumbs up after each one so he couldn't have screwed up that bad. Once he'd finished the interviews it was the walk to the draft. That meant more interviews, but it also meant interacting with the fans. He took pictures and listened to kids tell him about the goals he'd scored. He signed every Knights jersey he saw, there were more than he expected being on the other side of the country. There were twin boys a few years younger than Jason that talked over each other. He listened as closely as he could and took pictures with them. Their mother had been snapping pictures the entire time he was talking with them. Jillian stepped up and gave him two jerseys when he looked over to her. The boys looked at each other and hugged him as they clutched the jerseys. He stared at Jillian, surprised at their grip before smiling and patting their backs. 

“That was cute,” she showed him the picture their mother had gotten of his surprise. He knew it would be on the internet a few minutes later. He sat down between Arthur and the rookie from the Lanterns. Arthur and him talked for a while before the host started the program. They moved to whispers after that. Bruce congratulated Arthur on the new baby, and Mera’s health. She'd had a hard pregnancy. Arthur had complimented Jason, he'd apparently seen him play in a game a few weeks after Christmas. The man had been there for an Atlanteans event. They talked for a while about Jason before Arthur snickered that Jillian was shooting him death glares. 

The host called up the two captains. He had been overjoyed when they hadn't chosen him to captain a team. As he watched Kent stumble as he walked up the stage he was even more grateful. It gave him time to track down one of the water bottles that he knew for a fact had no water in them that had been floating around backstage. Once they'd taken a break for a commercial and Arthur pushed a bottle into his hand they were to the first drafts. 

“Keeping the tradition alive I'm drafting everyone's favorite Knight first,” Kent said with a smirk. He frowned for the second he had before the cameras landed on him. The rivalry between the Mammoths and the Knights was definitely played up by the league, but he'd been checked into the boards and scored on by the captain of the Mammoths enough that he wasn't exactly looking forward to spending the weekend with him. He made a point to look back down at the stair that Clark had tripped on as he walked up on stage. There was a smattering of laughs. Clark frowned at him, the least pleasant he ever got when he sat down in the chair next to his All-Star captain. 

 

-

 

Three hours and more alcohol than he ever remembered consuming later, Bruce was leaning against his hotel door. 

“My son loves you,” he slurred and jammed the key in the door again. Clark took the key from him and flipped it over. Bruce watched as he missed the slot. “He wore your jersey for the whole series against the Atlanteans last season.” He felt like an idiot. He'd been babbling about Jason for the last hour, but Clark didn't seem to mind. Hadn't seemed to mind him drunkenly repeating his name the entire elevator ride up to his room either. He liked the way the K’s felt. The man stumbled in after him once they got the door open so maybe he didn't mind because he was just as drunk, only quieter. He knocked over his bag when he reached for the stick. Clark was watching him when he straightened back up with the stick in hand. 

“That's my stick,” Clark said when he offered it to him. 

“Yup,” he said popping the p. “He has your stick, your skates. You're his idol,” he said staring at the stick in their hands. He needed to let go, but he couldn't. He didn't want to. “I'm not cool anymore.” His grip tightened on the stick. “I'm not cool and he's going to choose his mom,” he said and gasped before letting go of the stick and backing away. He dropped down onto the edge of the bed and dropped his head between his knees as he focused on not crying. He'd been trying not to admit it to himself, but he knew what would happen. He knew that Jason would go with Selina. They were closer, talked more, shared their secrets. He jerked at the hand rubbing up and down his spine. He was spiraling quickly into a sobbing mess. He listened to the shushing noise and focused on the warmth that spread across his back. 

After a few minutes, he lifted his head, sitting straight, but Clark didn't stop rubbing. There had been an odd moment at the bar everyone had ended up at, he could feel that same inexplicable feeling permeating the air around them. Clark's fingers drifted into his hair and he closed his eyes. Clark hummed curiously. His eyes opened and he turned. They were closer than he'd expected. Clark's fingers trailed from his hair across his jaw and settled on the side of his neck. He moved. He had kissed two people in his life and that was including Hilda Schulte who had kissed him on the playground then shoved him into the sandbox back when they were in kindergarten. He'd never trusted her after that. Clark's other hand framed his face and he updated the list to three people. The kiss didn't last long. Clark pulled away. 

“You're married,” he said. 

“We're getting a divorce,” he said. It was easier this time. It felt more real. Clark pulled him in. He was on his back toying with the idea of unbuttoning Clark's shirt when he remembered something he'd read. “Prince?” he questioned pushing Clark back. 

“On a break. Said I'm too nice,” Clark replied rolling his eyes to show what he thought of the reason. He tugged him in by his collar and rolled them. He got half of the buttons done before Clark pulled away. “We're doing this?” He was still buzzed, and he suspected that if he'd been completely sober and Clark had asked he would have thought too much about it, about what it would mean, about what would happen after, but as it was, all he could think about was finishing the rest of those buttons. 

“Yes,” he breathed and pushed Clark's shirt off. The enemy Captain was bulkier than him. His shoulders were broad, his chest wide before tapering to a trim waist. He rubbed his thumb along a dark bruise covering his side. The quick inhale wasn't all pain, so he did it again. Clark cursed and bit his lip. He marveled at the words dribbling from Clark's mouth as he kissed and sucked across his chest, edging along the bruise. He'd never heard the man utter a mean word. He knew he had a mean streak, he'd been on the receiving end of it before, but he didn't use his words in those moments. He let his body speak for him. Clark grabbed a handful of his hair as he sucked on the darkened skin. A moment later he was on his back and Clark was tearing at the buttons of his shirt. He jerked when the shirt was yanked open. He heard the pitters of the buttons hitting the floor. He couldn't help the surprised laugh. Clark hovered above him for a moment, looking at him. His thumb traced the curve of his lips before he leaned down and they were kissing again. 

“Christ you're beautiful.” Bruce's face heated and he fought the urge to grab the sheet and pull it over himself. He didn't think he'd ever felt that bashful. He'd grown up with people complimenting his looks, and it had only gotten more frequent as he grew into them. But there was just something about Clark's voice, the raw truth in it, that struck him down to the core. 

He groaned into the kiss. Nipping at his lips when Clark kept talking. He yanked at Clark's pants and together they got them down and he watched as Clark kicked them the rest of the way off. He stared at the expanse of skin in front of him. He grinned and snapped the band of the bright red boxer briefs. 

“Hey, at least I have color in my life. Not black on black on black.” 

“I'm told I look good in black,” he replied. 

“You look good out of it too,” Clark said eyes traveling down his body. “Now shut up.” He resisted saying ‘make me’, but the temptation must have shown in his eyes cause Clark smirked before he pressed his palm along his dick. He was surprised at how hard he already was, and he was only getting harder from the shifts in pressure. 

Clark's hands were bigger. It shouldn't have been a revelation, it was such an obvious thing. Even though she was only a few inches shorter than him, Selina was small. Her fingers had never wrapped easily around him, enveloping him in heat. He closed his eyes. Fuck. He gripped Clark's shoulder. His eyes opened and he looked at the man who was focused on what his hand was doing in his boxers. He looked at the curl dangling loose above his brow, the way he bit his lip in concentration - he'd never be able to face off against him again and not think of this moment - the bob of his Adam's apple when he swallowed, the width of his shoulders, the flex of his muscles under his skin. He looked and wondered how he'd never noticed any of this before. He knew the answer had a lot to do with finding his wife when he was six and never looking at another person again because he'd had her. 

But he didn't anymore. 

Clark's eyebrow raised in question while his fingers slipped past his balls. He bit his lip. He wanted this, his veins were on fire and he wanted to chase after the feel of Clark's hands on him. He didn't know the man, not beyond names and stats, not really, but he trusted him. He knew what he was doing. He nodded and let his legs drop open. Clark looked amazed as he looked at him. His heart was hammering in his chest. He wondered if Clark could hear it. He expected him to get right to it, but he didn't. Clark pushed up and kissed him deeply. A slow lazy exploration that did nothing to calm the fire in him. He rubbed up against Clark's thigh, pulling on his ass to get the friction he wanted. Clark pulled away, mouth hanging open, lips swollen as he looked down at him in a daze. 

“Roll over?” Clark asked. He did as he was told and heard Clark going through his bag. He didn't know what he found, but he came back and his fingers were slick as they pushed at his legs until they were where he wanted them. Bruce pressed his face into the mattress and hoped it hid the heat on his face. His fingers were huge, easily two of Selina's. He breathed through the strangeness and tried to push the comparisons away. This wasn't Selina. This was Clark. He was having sex with  _ him _ , not her. 

“Fuck,” Bruce hissed. Clark stopped and he whined. He didn't want him to stop. 

“Are you okay?” Clark asked. 

“Yes. Keep going,” he snapped. To Clark's credit, he did as he was told. The second finger was more than he'd ever felt. It felt better than he'd expected. By the time Clark's third finger slid into him he was panting into the mattress. “Yes, I'm ready,” he said as soon as Clark's fingers stopped again. He knew he had been about to ask. 

He was grateful that Clark didn't leave him feeling empty for long. As soon as he'd winced at the missing digits, Clark's head was a slowly building pressure. He shifted in by inches. Each one drawing a noise out of him until he was left thinking he couldn't take anymore. 

“You're so- you're so tight. Oh god,” Clark breathed when his hips were pressed tight against his ass. He reached back and held him there. Clark didn't move while he adjusted. He tapped his hip and dropped his hand back to the mattress. Clark shifted experimentally, then again, and again. They were tiny, cautious moments, and he didn't want that. He turned to look over his shoulder. Clark's face surprised him. He was staring down at where they were joined in awe. 

“You're not going to hurt me, so move.” Clark's eyes darted to his, almost like he'd been lost in his own world. 

Clark shook his head to clear his thoughts and mumbled, “Right. Yeah.”

Bruce closed his eyes against the drag, and grunted at the thrust back in. Clark took his time finding a rhythm, and even longer to find a spot he liked. He was nearly crying as he was teased. Clark leaned over him, his chest along his back. He cried out when that shifted Clark within him. He grabbed his dick, but was surprised when Clark's fingers wrapped around his hand. He let Clark move their hands. Clark came before him, he lasted a few seconds longer, the feel of him twitching deep in him was too much. 

He slumped onto the bed. He groaned when Clark pulled out of him, and his come trickled out after. He had let him come in him. He stared as Clark walked into the restroom and came back out with a rag. He winced as the man wiped him down. He couldn't be bothered to move. He didn't think he'd ever felt this relaxed after sex. Clark joined him, pulling a blanket over them both a few moments later.

 

-

 

“Oh fuck,” a voice whispered. He opened his eye and looked up at Jillian. Her face was bright red with shock. He registered the weight on his back a moment later. He remembered Clark climbing into the bed, but he didn't remember him curling up against him. Of course the man was a cuddler. “You weren't answering your phone. You have ten minutes to get ready. You have an interview.” She was staring at Clark who hadn't woken yet. “I'll meet you in the lobby in ten minutes,” she said her entire demeanor shifting into something he couldn't deny. He nodded. She nodded back and spun before stalking to the door. 

He laid there for a minute, thinking. He was sore, but not as sore as he'd expected. The weight of the man at his back was nice. He shifted out from under his arm and sat up. Clark groaned and reached out as if he was going to pull him back in. He wanted to let him. It surprised him. Instead he shook his shoulder. Clark's eyes opened into slits. He wasn't fairing the hangover as well. Clark's eyes traveled from his hip, up his chest before settling on his face. He watched the lazy smile grow and couldn't help but smile in response. 

“I have to get to an interview. You can stay as long as you want. I didn't want you waking up alone.” He climbed off the bed and started getting dressed. He could feel Clark watching him from the bed. When Bruce looked over at him he'd shifted enough to slip his arm under his head, but hadn't moved to get up. 

“Are you this considerate to all of your one night stands?” Clark asked. 

“I wouldn't know. I've never had one.” 

“What? That can't be true,” Clark said sitting up just a little.

“I've only ever had sex with Selina. And I guess you now.” he said tossing his tie over his neck. He could tie it in the elevator. 

“What? No. That can't be. You had to have-” Clark stopped talking and stared at him. “But you let me,” Clark stared at him, willing him to understand so that he didn't have to say it out loud. It was oddly cute. 

“I did. I figured you knew what you were doing.” 

“No! I mean I had an idea. I've never done this before though. You thought I had?” 

He pulled his second shoe on and looked up at Clark. He'd been sure. He'd said all those things, he'd thought that… He shook his head. “I have to go. I'll see you later though.” He stopped before opening the door. “No one knows about the divorce yet.” Clark nodded understanding what he didn't want to voice. “Oh and Clark? It was good.” He smiled and slipped out the door. 

 

\---

 

Clark was glad that their rooms were on the same floor when he crept out the door, freshly showered in yesterday's suit and ran on his toes down the hall. He wasn't sure he would be able to deal with running into some crazed fan in the elevator looking as thoroughly sexed as he did. He slid the key card in easily on the first try and ducked inside as the door next to his opened. His breath caught in his throat as he shut the door as quietly as he could. He closed his eyes, letting his forehead fall against the door with a heavy sigh. It wasn't like he hadn't had a one night stand before. When he was drafted to the Mammoths straight out of highschool, he took advantage of the spotlight and the pretty girls that gathered around it. He had always liked meeting new people, kissing new people, understanding what they liked and how they worked. But Bruce was-

Well, he was Bruce Wayne. Captain of the team and his supposed sworn rival. The multimillionaire who walked away from his family's fortune to play the game he loved and a beautiful wife- who apparently wasn't actually going to be his wife anymore. He banged his head against the door and groaned. What was he doing? You didn’t have one night stands with people you work with. You didn't get into bed with a married man… but he guessed, until last night, Clark didn't get in bed with any man.

But Bruce didn't feel like he was just any guy. Clark wasn't exactly sure how to explain it, but there was something underneath it all. Maybe it was the way he talked about his son, or had tried to cover himself at Clark drunken and heated omission of his beauty- but Bruce Wayne was scratched into his mind. And Clark didn't think it would be healing anytime soon.

A knock on the door made him jump backwards. Clark shook his head as Arthur called through the door, “Kent. You awake?”

He ripped off his wrinkled suit and threw some sweats on. “Barely,” he called back not having to fake his disorientation. He pulled open the door and Arthur smirked at him.

“We need to get moving if you plan on shaking your PR intern. I saw her downstairs waiting for your coffee, thought I'd come rescue you.”

He laughed, a little rough given his head ache. Part of him wanted to wait for that coffee but the other knew that he would be worse for the wear if he did. “God bless you Arthur Curry,” he told him and grabbed his bag heading for the shuttle that would take them to the practice rink.

 

-

 

The skills contest was mostly an excuse for all the players to catcall and chirp at each other as they secretly hoped the other fell over during the relay or shot too high. Mostly Clark took the time to catch up with his team while the others took their shots. He talked to Arthur about the new baby and how exhausted he was supposed to be but clearly wasn't. And Barry about his new girlfriend as they waited their turn.

There was a short practice for the game the next day after but again they mostly messed around. This was a team of the best players in the league and while, yeah Clark wanted to win, he also knew that the Captain title was more of an honorary thing and there wasn't any pressure to it.

They went out after, Clark had begged them for a simple dinner but Oliver wouldn't stand for it as he dragged them to the nearest bar. The lady running the bartop was enamored by them instantly when Oliver ordered a round of shots and they toasted to whooping Hal Jordan’s smug ass. He grinned at Bruce when he saw him make a face as the shot burned in the back of his throat. Bruce pursed his lips back at him, the corner of his mouth twitching in a way that Clark was pretty sure was his version of a smile. He was actually pretty sure that he'd never seen Bruce smile at all before last night when he was grinning up at him while laughing at his underwear.

Clark tried not to think about it. He mingled and laughed and definitely did not think about Bruce or his ass or the perfect way that his voice broke when he groaned. He talked about hockey and girls and did not tell anyone that all he wanted to do was find a way to get back to his hotel room, preferably with Bruce in tow. He had a few more beers before he started making excuses and headed out to catch a cab back to the hotel. A cab pulled up to the curb as Bruce pushed out the door after him. Without pausing Bruce stepped through the door that Clark was holding open without a word, scooting through to the other side. He had to mentally remind himself not to smile as he sat next to him and gave the driver the address to the hotel.

They sat silently, Clark waiting for Bruce to tell him why he’d followed him and Bruce looking as unfazed as ever until the cabby pulled up to the curb. Clark paid which Bruce made a face at but didn't say anything. They made it all the way to the elevator before Bruce finally broke the silence. “You never signed the hockey stick for me,” he said softly, doors closing into place and Clark moved to close the distance between them.

Bruce tasted like salt and if warmth had a flavor, fingers forcing shockwaves down his spine from his nape. He fisted his fingers in his hair, walking Bruce into the corner where the camera wasn't facing as Bruce teased his tongue into Clark's mouth. He was panting when the elevator dinged and they broke apart, just managing to get themselves straight as an old couple stepped in and pressed their floor.

His body was singing when they reached their floor. He followed Bruce at the steadiest pace that he could manage. When he reached his room and held the door open for Clark with an cute little incline of his head. Clark didn't focus on that though as he stepped back into the room he’d left that morning and Bruce locked the door behind them.

When Clark kissed him this time it was much softer. He couldn't say why exactly but the moment felt fragile, as if he pushed too hard it might break and he wasn't ready for that. It just felt so easy kissing Bruce, easier than kissing anyone else had ever felt, like he was supposed to keep doing it and doing it but he didn't. Instead he stepped back and feigned innocence. “What was this about a stick?” he asked and Bruce laughed shoving back onto the bed.  

 

-

 

The game was short and stupid, everyone taking trick shots and showing off to each other and the crowd. They won. There was a silly celebration and Bruce and him continued to dance around each other like they hadn't spent the night before getting to know each other on a more intimate level. He did not go back to Bruce’s room that night. There was no longer an excuse since he'd signed his son's hockey stick the night before. 

After staring at a text from Diana asking him to call when he could, he left for the airport the next morning. He and Diana had been on and off for years, so much so that the conversation he was about to have with her they'd already had too many times before. From him, from her- they had both had times where the other had to fess up for what or who they had done and figure out where to go from there. But this time felt different. At least to Clark it did. So he bought a ticket to Miami and headed to her apartment as soon he landed.

She answered the door in her underwear and a tank top, an old habit of hers that she was never able to shake. She was very comfortable in her skin. She’d spent years being the only woman in hockey, paving the way for women in a time before they adjusted to accommodate them. She was proud of her body. She was unashamed in all ways. Also she was gorgeous, which made Clark hesitate a moment longer than he meant to. At least until she frowned at him and he remembered why he’d come this far in the first place. “Clark,” she questioned, clearly confused as she looked out into the hallway.

“It's just me,” he told her. His hands pushed into his pockets as he shrugged. “Can I come in?”

She vacated the doorway, moving back to let Clark in but the frown stayed. “I thought you would call,” she started as she shut the door.

He perched on the edge of the couch arm and closed his eyes. “I thought this was more of an in-person conversation.”

The frown on her face hardened and a look he knew to well settled in her eyes as she crossed her arms. A second later she turned and headed for her bedroom. She always got dressed when she was angry, taking her body away from him and forcing him to focus on their fight. Clark watched her, letting her go about what made her comfortable. She tossed her jeans onto the back of the couch and stood there for a minute, making Clark turn to look at her, giving the power to her. “Do I know them?”she asked.

He sighed, “Yes.”

“Who is it?”

“I can't tell you.”

“Did you sleep with them?” She demanded. And Clark's silence was all that she needed. “We were on a  _ break _ ,” Diana seethed, pulling her pants on with a hard tug. “We weren't broken up.”

“Well we weren't broken up when you slept with that army guy last summer either,” Clark snapped back at her. She always managed to pull this out of him no matter what mood he started in and he was done with this. Done with feeling like this all of the time. Diana had started to defend herself looking hurt, cheeks flaming red but Clark shook his head and cut her off. “I'm sorry, I didn't come here to bring that up again- it's just…” he hesitated. “Diana, what are we doing?”

She blinked. “We are fighting.” She shrugged like that was obvious. “Because you-"

“No, I mean what are we doing here,” he corrected gesturing between them. “With us, as a couple- what are we doing? All we do is fight and snap at each other and break up and then do it all over again. I mean, do you even  _ like _ me anymore?”

 

-

 

He stumbled into his apartment with an extra suitcase full of all the things that he had left at Diana’s over the years. He felt exhausted and sad, but there was also relief coursing through his muscles as he shut the physical and metaphorical door on the last couple of days and tried to pull his life back together. He went to practice, he went out with Jimmy and Lois. He watched all of the TV shows on his DVR that he had always meant to watch but never actually got around to- and then remembered why he never watched them. He browsed through game recaps and stats trying to tell himself that he only perked up at Bruce’s name because of his impressive stats.

Because he definitely wasn't thinking about him. He wasn’t dreaming about him and that easy laugh he had never seen before. He didn't get lost at practice when Kong lucked into a shot that looked suspiciously like Clark's new favorite center.

“Hey Jimmy,” he called as they limped back to the locker room. The team split up into small groups lost in their own conversation. Jimmy made a face in response and slowed. “Can I ask you something weird?”

He smirked, “You act like you aren't always weird.”

Clark rolled his eyes. “Ha ha,” he said stagnantly and tugged on his elbow to hold him back. “But really… Have you ever like…” He scrunched his face up trying to figure out the best way to say it. “Have you ever thought about a guy… sexually?”

“Are you trying to tell me you have finally succumbed to my boyish charm?” Jimmy asked straight faced.

“I’m telling you that I had an experience and I’m… confused,” he sighed. It would have been one thing if it was just the sex. Clark had grown up in a small town surrounded by a lot of ignorance and innocence. His family had always been open and loving, but he had absolutely no experience with men and he had never expected to. Until now. Now that he couldn’t stop thinking about Bruce Fucking Wayne and the complete clarity in his eyes as he looked back over his shoulder at him, telling him what to do in low and raspy commands.

His face felt warm and Jimmy was frowning at him now. “You had an experience,” he repeated. Clark nodded. “At All-Stars?” Clark nodded again and Jimmy pulled him a little further back, towards the ice again so that they were completely alone. “With who?” he demanded.

Clark told him everything and Jimmy listened intently taking in every detail like the reporter that his parents had always hoped that he would turn out to be. He only spoke when Clark finished the entire story. “Dude, you need to go to Gotham.”

“No.” He shook his head. “No. That’s ridiculous. He’s getting divorced Jim, do you really think that he wants to see me right now? It was just distraction sex. A happy accident.”

“It’s not an accident if it happens twice.” Jimmy smirked and kept going before Clark could cut him off. “Look, I’m not saying that he is in love with you or anything- that would be insane. But obviously he enjoyed himself if you did it again.”

“He’s straight.”

“ _ You _ are straight.” Jimmy shot back like it was that easy. “And he was married to Selina Kyle. You don’t get much hotter than that. So if he wanted to do you, then maybe that means something?”

 

-

 

It didn’t mean anything. At least that’s what he told himself as he paced in front of the door of Wayne manor holding two different bouquets of flowers wondering why he had brought flowers at all. He didn’t really think that Bruce was a flower kind of guy. But his mom always told him that it was rude to show up at anyone’s house empty-handed. Chocolate felt weird and alcohol was too presumptuous, and he was pretty sure that showing up with a pot roast would make him a weird stalker guy. So Clark spent twenty minutes in a flower shop trying to decide if it would be better to get daisies or roses. So he got both and drove to the manor only to then freak out about what he was going to do with the other bouquet- because who wanted to be the freak who brought someone two bouquets of flowers? He debated on whether or not he should get back in his truck and give himself a two hour speech on the way back to Metropolis, but the front door opened before he had the chance to decide. He panicked and threw the roses behind the bush by the door.

Selina Kyle looked just as beautiful as she did in her movies. She was tall and yet still tiny, her delicate limbs strong but unimposing. He had taken over an hour to get ready that morning and yet he was left feeling disheveled under her curious gaze. “Um, Hello Mrs. Wayne,” he offered somewhat awkwardly.

Her eyes flicked to the roses in the bush and back, “It’s Mrs. Kyle actually.”

Heat grew on his face. He knew that. “I knew that. I’m sorry,” he admitted and closed his eyes. This was so freaking stupid. He shouldn’t have come here. He should have stayed home and spent the afternoon frustrated while wondering what the hell was wrong with him.

“You’re Clark?” she asked surprising him. He frowned and that was all the answer that she needed. “I’m guessing those daisies aren’t for me then.”

He swallowed thickly, the bizarreness of the situation making his throat dry. “You could have the roses of you’d like,” he offered not thinking.

But fortunately she smirked, “Deal.” Selina opened the door wider, “Why don’t you come in?”

Clark followed her, assuming that she was more telling than really offering and grabbed the roses on the way. He was glad to have his hands full to keep them from fidgeting while he followed her to the kitchen. They didn’t talk while she pulled out two vases and offered him a knife to cut the ends of the flowers. He washed it off and placed it back in the block as she set the vases and watched him as though he were from another planet. 

“Tea?” she asked and when he made a face she amended, “Coffee.” 

He agreed and this silence was a little more comfortable as the espresso machine whirled and Selina finally placed a small mug on the counter in front of him. “So,” Selina started with a small sip. “What are your intentions with my husband?”

He choked on his coffee and she offered him a napkin. “M-ma’am?” he choked.

Her smirk turned into a full fledged smile as she leaned over the counter, propped up by her elbows as she grinned down at her coffee. “Bruce and I have been married for a long time, and before that we were practically married anyway.” she told him. “He’s my best friend, despite the fact that that partnership is over. He tells me things.”

“He tells you things,” Clark repeated slowly.

Her eyes gleamed. “Like a drunken night with a certain All-American Mammoth.”

And shame hit Clark all over. He put his coffee down and accepted his guilt knowing that he deserved it and tried to stay calm enough to get through what he knew he had to say. “Mrs. Kyle-”   


“Selina.”

“Selina,” he amended, “I am so very sorry. I never meant to take advantage of you and your husband's situation, even if you are getting divorced. I’m sure that it has all been very difficult, and I shouldn’t have added further complication to-”

“You speak well for someone from Smallville,” she interrupted him, pushing her coffee to the side. “Listen, Clark, I’m not angry. I’m not thrilled, but Bruce is a very particular man. He knows what he wants and when he wants it, he gets it.” A smirk quirked her mouth again and fell instantly. She stepped around the counter, wearing heels so high that she was just barely a head shorter than him but he felt dwarfed next to her. “But I’ll warn you now. If you hurt him, if you do anything to make him unhappy in anyway, I will stop at nothing to make sure you feel nothing but very intense displeasure for the rest of your very brief existence, do you understand?”

“Clark?” They both looked over to the newly opened kitchen door to the very startled Bruce looking between the two of them like he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming. A teenaged boy walked in behind him and stopped dead when he saw who his mom was talking to. His jaw dropped to the floor.

“Holy…” he whispered and then ran out the door, leaving the adults on their own.

Selina pat Clark on the chest and stepped back, grabbing the vase of roses as she walked out past her husband. “The daisies are for you,” she told him with a wink and Clark wished very much that he had just gotten back in his truck and left while he could.

 

\---

 

The arguing stopped that morning. He got out of the interview to a picture of Jason drooling into his pillow with the caption ‘Best thing we ever did’ from Selina. He didn't know if it was the time away from each other or if it was just them. They had never been able to stay angry at each other for long. He was dreading the phone call he was about to make. His stomach twisting with guilt at the text. 

Selina answered with a curt, “Hi.” He knew it was a dig, but he didn't rise to the bait.

“I'm sorry,” he told her. “I - I'm sorry.” He pressed his forehead against the corner of the stairwell he had hidden out in. “I slept with someone,” he admitted. The sound of the silence he got in return echoed in the stairwell. “Selina, I'm-” 

“Bruce. Jay and I are at lunch. I will call you later, okay?” She didn't sound angry, but she didn't sound happy either. He knew what he'd been expecting. He had wanted her to be mad at him. He'd wanted for their lackluster agreement to be dwarfed by this. He wanted there to be an actual explainable reason that their marriage was ending. Something more than what he had. She hadn't given him that. 

When she'd called him back that night as he was getting dressed for the skills competition she'd told him that she was not mad at him, but that she didn't want to talk about it over the phone. She'd filled him in on what Jason had done that day. He felt calmer, more at ease. The next day had been more of the same. They texted about Jason and the players that Selina knew. He forwarded her all of the pictures Arthur sent him of the baby. 

Walking back into the manor felt like a weight settling on him. He looked at the pictures of their wedding and family photos and was reminded of what he was losing. Selina got home as he was finishing dinner. They sat down at the kitchen table and looked at each other. 

“Jason is spending the night at, that weird kid, Frog’s?” She rolled her eyes at the nickname. He let out a breath. She looked back at him, eyes narrowed. “I'm not angry at you,” she repeated. He looked at his hands, his wedding ring still sitting on his finger. Selina's wasn't on hers when she wrapped her fingers around his. She had never worn it much. After Jason was born she'd strung it on a chain and wore it daily. The ring had been small, something from an antique store they'd seen when they were kids. He'd offered to get her a new one when his first check from the Knights had come in, but she'd refused. He wondered if she'd keep it now. She squeezed his hand drawing his gaze back up to her face. “I'm not going to lie, it hurts. A lot more than I expected it to honestly. But I'm not angry.” 

“I'm sorry,” he whispered. 

“Stop apologizing,” she snapped. “Would it make you feel better if you told me about it? So you weren't hiding anything?” He looked at her. He had always hated keeping secrets from her. He'd never been able to keep one for long. His proposal had meant to be the night of their graduation. Instead it had happened in the middle of April when he broke down and asked her. “Who was it?” she asked reading his mind.

“Clark Kent,” he said.

“Jason's Kent?” Selina asked. 

“All I'd meant to do was get him to sign a stick for Jason.” He ran his hand through his hair. Selina laughed. 

“Oh man. Okay. So you invite him up to your room for the signature. You were drunk?” He nodded. “Sorry,” she said, knowing the only other times he'd ever gotten drunk were when he was upset about something. He looked over at her. She did truly seem sorry. “So you're drunk and there's a stick. Somehow sex happens. Did he jump you?” she asked with a wry smile. He shook his head.

“I kind of freaked out about Jason choosing you because I'm not cool. He rubbed my back while I made a fool of myself. And I don't know. We were kissing.” Selina was quiet as she digested the information. 

“Jason is discussion for later. Keep going,” she said after a moment. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. 

Selina nodded. “You are my best friend. Nothing is going to change that. I know that you won't tell anyone else and it'll eat you up. So tell me. Plus, we might as well get used to this now.” 

“It was really different.” He shrugged at her ‘no duh’ look and continued. “It was good.” 

“Did you fuck him?” she asked. He felt his face heat up like he'd never felt it do before. 

“What the fuck, Bruce?” she asked. “How many times did I ask you and you always said no. I told you that you'd like it. You did right?” 

“Yeah,” he mumbled. She grabbed his hand, reassuring him, soothing his nerves. 

“Was that it?” she asked. He shook his head. 

“The next night too,” he replied. “I don't know how to explain it. It reminded me of meeting you.” His voice was quiet. “I just want to be around him.” 

“So are you going to keep seeing each other?” she asked. Her eyes were a little sad. He didn't like it, hadn't wanted that. 

“No,” he told her. He'd thought about asking for Clark's number before the game, but hadn't. He knew enough people that he could get the man's number if he wanted it, but he wasn't sure what the weekend had been. He thought that maybe he wanted to see him again, but Clark had said he was on a break. He'd called it a one night stand. Even if they'd had a second night it didn't change that they'd been together there in that little bubble that was All-Stars. It didn't mean it would work outside. The love of his life was sitting next to him and he hadn't been able to make that work. 

“Why not? You said you had fun. You like him. You could just date him. It's not like you have to marry the first person you see.”

“But it worked out so well the first time.” 

“Oh shut up,” she said a delighted grin on her face. “Then marry this one too.”

“Maybe I will,” he retorted as Selina got up and grabbed a gallon of ice cream from the freezer. 

“We're finishing this and catching up on Grey's. You promised.” 

They spent the rest of the night curled together on the couch eating ice cream and talking. They hadn't done this in too long. He knew then that they were doing the right thing. Just them sitting together, being open, he was happier than he'd been in a while. He just hadn't noticed. Selina had a point. They had been best friends before they'd ever been anything else. He let his mind drift to the show, by the end of the night Selina was sobbing into his shirt and he hid his own tears in her hair as she laughed at him. 

 

-

 

Jason had made him immediately play with his new stick. The uneasy feeling in his chest was worth the look on his kid's face as he rocketed down the stairs shouting about the new shot he'd learned. Selina was watching them when Jason finally started to wilt. She rubbed Jason's hair and told him to wash up for dinner as he passed. 

“That's a new face,” he told her. She helped him untie his skates like she always had. He watched her in confusion. She'd never been one to hold back what she was thinking, but he knew she was holding something back now. 

“It's nothing,” she finally said as she pulled his skates off and looked up at him. “Come on, old man. Food then bath. Your back will thank me.” 

“My back thanks you for the skates already,” he said pulling her hand through his arm as they walked back up to the manor proper. Jason had already set the table and was impatiently tapping a rhythm against his plate when they walked into the kitchen. 

“How was your scrimmage?” She asked. 

“He's still letting me win,” Jason whined. He wasn't, but he would let Jason think that for as long as he wanted. He was amazed more and more each day as he watched him play. “But I'm pretty sure that I finally have that one timer down.” 

“Only had to break three panes of glass to perfect it,” he commented. Jason stuck his tongue out at him. He did it right back and got a laugh. 

“You made sure your father was in the goal right? That's what we agreed on right?” Selina stage-whispered to Jason. 

“Oh yeah. He kept running out though. He's wily.” Selina laughed and sat down across from Jason. 

“That he is. We'll have to come up with a new plan. ” She winked and gave Jason a devilish grin. 

Jason talked about the different feel of his new stick and they devolved into talking shop for the rest of dinner. 

 

-

 

He got out of practice a few days later to Selina sitting in his locker. She was dressed in a suit with oversized glasses that hid most of her face. She pulled them up and handed a suit bag to him. He stared at her offering for a moment. She lifted the glasses and he could see the tears that had been in her eyes. He took the bag. It was time. 

Their lawyers did a double take when they walked in together. He knew the pair they made when they wanted to make a statement. Selina had always bragged that he had never been asked to step out of a photo on a red carpet. She'd always been hated by the other wives of the players and thrived on that knowledge. The last premiere he'd gone to he'd just broken a finger and had the worst trouble getting his tie tied right. Selina had slipped in behind him and tied it carefully. He remembered in that moment wondering how lucky they'd gotten. He'd been an awkward looking kid. His mother had talked about it for years. His eyes were too big, his hair too unruly, he'd lost all of his teeth at once when he'd fallen into the edge of sandbox after Hilde Schulte had pushed him into it. His mother had been distraught. Selina had been the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. She talked about how awkward she had been, but he'd never seen it that way. Selina had admitted that she liked the little nubs of teeth he'd had when they met. They'd gone through the awkward stages and had somehow ended up on the other side unharmed. Selina didn't take off the sunglasses as they sat down at the table across from each other. 

“Seeing as no pre-nup was signed,” the man sitting next to Selina started. He had been sure that his father was going to kill him when he'd told him they'd gotten married. His father had only ever seen Selina as some conniving girl that had seen his son as an easy target and had latched on. It didn't matter that they'd been together for 11 years. It didn't matter that he'd offered to buy her the dress she'd always dreamed of and the ring she deserved. She hadn't wanted it. She'd loved the ring she'd gotten. She loved the dress she'd worn. None of it had mattered because at the end of the day she was going home with him. Bruce had told his father that and he'd laughed in his face. He'd been kicked out and his accounts frozen. His mother had talked him down, but the damage had been done.

“That is his money,” Selina interrupted with a sharp look to her lawyer. “I don't want any of it.” Everyone looked a little stunned. Her lawyer obviously hadn't believed her. She looked over to him and he could see her checking for any surprise on his face. He knew she'd kick his ass if he'd ever doubted her. “He keeps his. I keep mine.” 

The mediator wrote down a note and skimmed the page before asking, “Custody concerns?” 

“Joint custody,” he said. 

“Joint legal,” Selina replied. She looked at him. He couldn't see her eyes but he could feel them on him. “I want him to have Physical custody.” She looked to the mediator then back to him. “His entire life is in that house. I don't want to disrupt that just so he has to sleep over at my house on weekends.”

The room was quiet. He nodded after checking for any inkling that she wasn't sure of her decision.

“We agree,” his lawyer replied. The rest of the afternoon went by in a blur. They were released after signing a few things. He watched Selina in the reflection of the elevator. As soon as they stepped out into the parking garage he pulled her in. She let out a shaky sob and they held each other surrounded by oil stained air and echoing honks. 

“You're such a good dad,” she said as they drove out of the garage. “I don't want you to ever doubt that. Okay?” He nodded. 

 

-

 

The next few weeks were an adjustment. They both moved out of their room. Selina had slowly been moving things out since that first conversation, but as the room emptied he found he didn't want to stay in their room either. He moved out of the only room he'd ever lived in and chose one of the guest suites down the hall. Slowly they worked out a routine. Selina texted that she wasn't going to be home for lunch and to go ahead and get the kid fed. 

He walked back in a few hours later, they'd made a detour at the arcade. His way of bribing Jason to promise not to tell his mom that they'd gotten Meat Lovers. He pushed open the kitchen door when he heard Selina's voice. She was standing inches away from the man in front of her. Firey anger in her eyes as she looked up at him. 

“Clark?” he asked. They both turned to look at him. Jason walked in the room and he swore he heard his brain turn off and back on before he ran away. He watched him trip up the stairs before turning back to the pair in front of him. Selina smiled at him as she walked closer with a vase of roses in her hands. He looked at them and she pointed to the second vase on the counter. “The daisies are for you.” Clark looked like he was regretting waking up in the morning as Selina slinked down the hall to her office. 

“Daisies?” he asked finally stepping through the door. 

“My mother taught me to always bring something when you visit.” 

“So, daisies?” he asked leaning down to sniff the bouquet. 

“I brought roses too,” Clark said. 

“Did you know I grow roses?” he asked. Clark looked out the kitchen door where Selina had gone with the bouquet of roses. “Don't let her bother you. The fact that you survived your first encounter is promising.” Clark chuckled. He looked over to the door in time to see Jason with half of his room in his arms. He bit back the laugh and shook his head. Jason froze and stared at Clark. He held up a finger. Jason looked down at the pile and back at him. He pointed again and Jason stepped out. He heard the clatter of him dropping things. Clark looked over and Jason stepped back in with only his jersey in his hands. 

“So you're Jason?” Clark asked. Jason nodded and looked at him as if to say ‘he knows my name’. Bruce smiled and prodded him to speak. “Your dad told me all about you.” Jason's head whipped around as he looked at Clark in a panic. 

“What did he tell you?” Jason asked shooting him a suspicious look. 

“That you play. He seems to think you're pretty good too.” 

Jason beamed. But shyly offered a simple, “I'm okay.” 

Bruce scoffed loud enough to draw their attention. “He's amazing. Skates circles around me.” 

“Cause you're going easy on me.” 

“You have your own rink?” Clark asked. He didn't remember telling Clark about the rink, but he wouldn't be surprised if he had. 

“Can we play?” Jason practically shouted. “Please dad?” He looked to Clark, who hadn't come to play with his son if the bouquet was anything to go by. 

“I'd love to,” Clark said with a smile. Jason flew out of the room. He started after him. Clark laughed when he saw the pile of merch next to the door. “You were serious.” He pushed open the false wall that led down to the rink. The cold air hit them as soon as they stepped onto the first step. “I didn't have this growing up,” Clark murmured. He directed Clark to the wall of skates and went to check Jason's gear. 

They messed around for an hour or so. Selina called down to tell Jason that Frog was on the phone. Jason was quick to get off the ice. He looked over to Clark. They skated for a little while longer, shooting at the goal and playing keep away. The clock passed six and they called it quits. 

He pulled off his skates carefully. 

“Hey Clark? Why did you come to Gotham?” he asked while Clark was putting his borrowed skates back on the wall. The man dropped the skates. He turned and looked back at him. 

“Uh. Actually. I wanted to see if you maybe wanted to go out with me. On a date?” 

He hesitated. He'd known when he saw the flowers that it was something more than a friendly visit. Facing the question and the realization that he'd never been asked or before had him freezing.

“He does.” They both turned and looked to the stairs. Selina was standing at the entrance with her bag over her shoulder. “I'm taking Jay over to Frog's.” She turned and started back up the stairs. “Don't do anything I wouldn't do!” The door shut behind her. 

“I do,” he said with a smile as he looked back at the shell-shocked Clark. 

 

-

 

Eating Chinese take out as they walked through the park wasn't the first thing he'd imagined if he pictured his first date with Clark. They realized as they were driving in to town that they couldn't exactly be seen in Gotham together. 

“Why would you want to watch a show that's purpose was to make you cry?” Clark asked as he fumbled with the broccoli. Every time it got close to his mouth his chopsticks twisted and he dropped it back into the container. 

“Same reason we play a contact sport.” He finished his container and let it hang from his fingers as he watched Clark spear the broccoli and give him a victorious smile as he chewed. 

“I just don't get it.”

“Watch an episode with me. I swear it'll drag you in.” Clark smiled as he pretended to consider his offer. 

“Yeah okay. One episode.” 

“This exact agreement is how I got sucked in. You can't watch it without me though. Swear,” Bruce held out his pinky. Clark looked like he was holding back laughter but hooked his pinky around his and they shook. 

“You know you're not really what I expected,” Clark said as they continued their walk with a short detour by the trash can.

“I get that a lot. Things are different on the ice. I'm there to do a job. I mean I love it, but it's still something I get paid to do. I'm going to focus on doing my best. I know I get a little…” he paused looking for the right word. 

“Terrifying?” Clark offered. 

“Intense,” he finished with a smirk. Clark mouthed ‘terrifying’ at him. “I guess I've always been that way when I do something. I've never seen the point of doing something halfway.” 

“My dad used to tell me that. Back when I worried about playing. We weren't exactly rich. I don't know if you've noticed but hockey isn't the most affordable sport.” Clark chuckled, it sounded a little forced. “He told me that if I was committed to playing that they'd do everything they could to make sure that I could, but I had to see it through. I couldn't half ass it and let all this time go to waste.” 

“Sounds like a smart man.” Clark nodded. He could see that he clearly missed his family. If he remembered correctly they were still back in Smallville. Too far to visit during the season. “I  don't really want to ask. I've been having a nice time. But I need to know. Your break with Diana?” he glanced over to Clark then back to the path. 

“We're not together any more. I ended it when I got home from All-Stars.” Clark tossed another pebble into the pond they were walking past. The shadows played on his face. They would have to go soon. It'd be too dark. “Why didn't you call?” 

He looked over to Clark who was focused on the ripples of the water. 

“I don't know. I didn't know if you wanted me to. I didn't know if it was just a one night stand like you'd said. So much is already changing in my life I didn't know if I could handle something else too.” 

“Can you?” Clark asked. 

“Yes, this doesn't really feel like a change.” He shrugged when Clark looked over to him. He wanted to kiss him. The reasons why he shouldn't rushed through his head, but he did anyway. 

Clark's hand rested on his hip as they kissed. The two inches between them felt like nothing when Clark pulled him closer. The reasons this wasn't the best place poked and prodded at him until he pulled away with a shaky laugh. 

“We should probably head back.” 

 

\---

  
  


“And then what?” Jimmy demanded, his hand just barely under the bar as he spotted him. He'd insisted on hearing every detail of his trip to Gotham as soon as he'd gotten in to practice but Clark had managed to evade him until they got to the training room. 

“I took him home,” Clark grunted, putting the bar back on the hooks. His arms fell like noodles to his sides. 

Jimmy rolled his eyes and helped him up. “And?” he prompted. 

“And I left?” He shrugged not knowing why he felt so embarrassed by that. Selina hadn't been there when they got back and Jason was at his friend's. But Clark hadn't gone to Gotham to hook up with him. He wanted to know Bruce. Intimately, sure- but there was something about being with him, watching him talk about Jason and the things he loved that shook something loose inside of him. He wanted to be one of those things. “He isn't even divorced yet. And I know we started fast, but it just felt kind of… wrong. Like I'd be taking advantage.”

“Or maybe you would be providing a distraction?” Jimmy offered as they adjusted the weights on the bar. “Think about it, he's been with his wife for forever. Regardless of how cool they are with the break up, you know it's got to be hard on him.” He smirked at  _ hard on _ and Clark pushed him down onto the bench, taking his place as the spotter. 

“I don't want to complicate things.” And as he said it, he knew that the damage was already done on that front. “I don't want to make things more complicated than I already have,” he amended. 

Jimmy grinned at him. “So you're going old school?” 

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I guess so.”

 

-

 

He stared at his phone longer than he intended, the number that Bruce had so carefully typed into it before he left Gotham glaring back at him. He knew that he needed to call but he had patiently waited the three days that he'd been told etiquette required. Bruce seemed like the kind of guy that would appreciate that. And now that he had waited he was losing his nerve. He walked around his apartment and cleaned his kitchen that was already clean, but he couldn't make himself press dial until he found himself rearranging his bookshelf for the third time. He couldn't sit still while it rang, pacing a hole in his throw rug as pulse went crazy. He had a minute to think that maybe he should hang up when the other line clicked on and he jumped as Bruce said, “Hello?” 

Clark dropped his phone, cursing as he scrambled for it, barely catching it before it hit the ground. “Hello?” Bruce said again confused. 

“Hi, hey-” He smacked his palm into his face. “It's Clark, sorry the call…” He stared at the ceiling. “Dropped?” 

“Oh.” There was a pause on the other end that gave him the right amount of time to collect himself. “I wasn't sure if you were going to call,” Bruce admitted.

Clark swallowed. “My idiot friend told me that only losers called as soon as they got home.” He joked lamely. “I figured that needed to trick you into thinking I was cool before you figured that out.”

“I like lame,” Bruce mumbled and Clark's heart did a backflip.

“Do you want to be lame with me next Sunday?” he asked before he small talked his way into a corner. “I know we can't really go anywhere but I thought you could come over to my place. I could cook. We could watch that horrible depressing show you were talking about.”

“You cook?” It sounded like Bruce was smiling.

Clark grinned. “I try,” he offered. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s a maybe.” Bruce laughed. “Let me just check with Selina. Make sure Jason is taken care of. I'll call you back?”

“Yes sir,” he muttered and fell onto the couch as they hung up, tension leaking out of his body.

 

-

 

Bruce called back the next morning to confirm and Clark spent the rest of the week wondering if he should call him again. He used to talk to Diana almost every day on the phone when they started dating, doing everything they could to make the distance between them seem smaller. He wanted to call. To listen to Bruce talk about his days. But instead he waited it out, cleaning his apartment until you could eat off the floor and waited for Sunday to roll around.

The Mammoths had an early game against Star City that ended with a shut out. The team was riding a high and talking about going out when he got out of his shower and shoved all of his things into his bag. “You coming out, Cap?” Jerry asked after Lois needled him into going.

“Yeah, come with us!” She grinned over his shoulder.

Jimmy pat his shoulder and made a face at them. “Let the old man go home. Drinking is for us kids.” He poked.

Clark shoved him. “I'm only two years older than you,” he griped but thanked him when he was leaving. Bruce was supposed to be at his place in an hour and he was still thirty minutes away from his apartment. He ended up getting home in fourty, a small accident having him rush into his building and throw his bag into his room. He changed into some light washed jeans and a deep blue sweater, pushing the sleeves up to expose his forearms. He plugged his phone into his surround system and hit shuffle on a random playlist before he tried to get his hair to do anything but curl. But it was too late. He sighed and got on with it, setting his stew pot on the stove as he started pulling things out of the fridge.

He’d just pulled out the chicken he’d shredded the night before when the doorman buzzed him and told him that Bruce was heading up. Clark did one last sweep of his apartment and tried hopelessly to tame his hair, but the knock on his door pulled him back to the living room and he couldn't help but grin when he opened the door.

It was impossible to forget how attractive Bruce was. Even before Clark had realised he liked him that way, the girls on the team always swooned over Bruce and he could see why. He was tall with broad shoulders, his eyes pale and hooded by a dark deep brow. But his expression was open and hopeful as he laid eyes on Clark, a little shine there that made something warm blossom in his chest. Something new and exciting. “You look amazing,” he said before he could stop himself. He hadn't even taken in what he was wearing, yet. Bruce flushed and Clark bit at the inside of his cheek as he stepped to the side to let him in. He wasn't sure if he should hug him or kiss him, so he settled for a kiss on his cheek as he took his jacket and the bottle of wine that Bruce had brought with him. Something in French that he knew he'd butcher if he attempted it. “I'm assuming this is fancy?” he asked as he lead Bruce to the kitchen.

“You assume correct,” he said. “How did you guess?”

“You seem like the fancy wine kind of guy,” he admitted and pulled a few glasses out of the cabinet. He poured the wine as Bruce looked around the apartment, taking his time as he looked out at the city through the large window but stopped at a few of the photos on his wall. “That's my younger brother, Conner,” he told Bruce, handing him a glass as he followed his gaze to a photo of Connor with a huge trophy. “He just turned eleven, got that trophy last summer at a hockey camp. Apparently he takes after me.”

Bruce mulled that over taking a sip of his wine. “That's quite an age difference.”

Clark shrugged. “Our parents didn't really see either of us coming,” he admitted with a laugh remembering his mother's face when she found out they were having another kid. “I thought my mom was going to have a heart attack when the doctor told her she was expecting. But it was the easiest pregnancy in the world. No complications.”

“Jason was hard for Selina.” Bruce told him thinking about it, letting Clark lead him back to the kitchen. “She was sick and miserable almost the entire second and third trimester. And at the home stretch he wouldn't let her eat macaroni and cheese and she sobbed about it for hours.”

“That sounds terrifying.” Clark laughed, slipping his apron on.  

Bruce's eyes lit up as they traveled down the length of him, enjoying the view from his seat at the bar counter. “It wasn't so bad,” he said fondly but his face morphed after the moment passed. “Is it weird for me to be talking about Selina?”

“I think it would be weird if you didn’t?” he offered as put the chicken in a pot that now had steaming water in it, along with some celery and bay leaves. “I mean, you were together for…” he glanced over his shoulder in a question.

“Just about thirty years,” Bruce all but whispered.

Clark let out a heavy breath. Thirty years. No big deal. He could handle thirty years. He took a drink of his wine before he left the pot to boil and faced him at the counter. He needed to change the topic. “Have you ever made bread?”

 

\---

 

“Hey Dad, can you help me with this shot?” He stuck his head out of his closet. Jason was looking around his room.

“I can't today buddy.”

“I thought you didn't have anything today? No team stuff is on the calendar.”

“It's not team stuff,” he replied, tossing the ties he'd been trying out back onto the shelf.

“What is it?” Jason asked jumping onto to his bed. He sent the stack of shirts sitting on edge of the bed toppling to the fall. He picked them back up and dropped them on Jason's lap.

“Meeting up with a friend.”

“You have friends?” Jason asked. He shoved Jason's head. The boy laughed as he curled in to protect himself. He poked him on the thigh and grabbed a sweater. “Why the fashion show?” Jason asked as he sat back up. He pulled on another shirt and decided that was it. He wasn't changing again. He started hanging things back up without answering his son.

“Mom says to wear the black sweater and the jeans she got you for your birthday.” He stuck his head back out to look at Jason who shook his phone at him. “I don't want to read the rest of the text.” He chuckled at the fake barf Jason spewed as he handed over his phone. Selina's text ended with ‘his ass looks amazing in them.’ He handed Jason's phone back and went back to the closet. When he walked back out in the outfit she'd picked Jason glanced up. He went back into the bathroom. He looked over his shoulder. Jason was standing in the door watching him do his hair.

“Something on your mind?”

“Do you still love mom?”

He set down the comb. “I'll always love her. Just like I'll always love you.” Jason scoffed, but he knew that laugh. He tugged Jason against his shoulder. There were days when he couldn't believe how fast he was growing. He could remember when Jason didn't get picked for the team he wanted when he was six. He'd shoved his face in his hip to hide the tears that had followed.

“If you love her then why are you getting divorced?” Jason asked, his voice muffled against his shoulder. Jason's fingers clenched in his shirt as he hugged him back. He rubbed his hair and leaned back. Jason wiped at his face. He tapped his chin. Jason sniffed and met his eyes.

“I know this might not make sense to you now, but one day it will. We aren't in love anymore.” He guided him back into the room and sat down on his bed. Jason slumped next to him. “You will always be the most important thing in our lives and your mom will always be my best friend. That will never change, but everything else about our lives has grown apart.” Jason was frowning as he focused on his words. “You talked with your mom?”

Jason nodded. “She said a lot, but pretty much the same thing.” Jason looked up and sighed. Bruce sat with him and let Jason fix his hair when he made it look lame. He thought it had looked good, but Jason had insisted.

Selina pulled into the garage as he stepped into it on his way out. He stopped at his car. She lifted her sunglasses and looked him up and down.

“Have fun,” she said kissing him on the cheek as she passed. He heard the sharpness in her voice and let her go.

He thought about Jason smiling at him even though he could still see the confusion and hurt in his eyes for most of the drive. He hadn't wanted to leave, but Jason had disappeared when Barbara called and he had lost his excuse.

The doorman did a double take when he walked up. He was clearly a fan of his tenant. “Mr. Wayne,” the man offered. Bruce thanked him, but before he could tell the man that he was there for Clark he was already on the phone with him. The elevator was old, he listened to the creak of the gears as they steadily rose through the building.

Clark looked nervous, and it made him nervous. He babbled about Jason and Selina, still thinking about the conversation he'd had before. He spoke without thinking. “Is it weird for me to be talking about Selina?”

“I think it would be weird if you didn’t?” Clark replied, focused on the pot in front of him. “I mean, you were together for…” He met Clark's eyes.

“Just about thirty years,” he said and for the first time he wondered if this might have been a mistake. He could see the shock on Clark's face. He watched Clark take a long sip of the wine. Maybe he was thinking the same thing.

“Have you ever made bread?” Clark asked suddenly.

“I have watched my godfather make all sorts of things. Does that count?” Clark laughed. He felt a little of his nerves ease out at the laughter.

“No, but I can show you.” Clark pushed over a pot labeled flour and placed a bowl in front of him. “Two cups of flour, please.” He measured it out feeling like he was eight again helping Alfred make a cake for Mother's Day. The cake had been lopsided despite Alfred's help. “A teaspoon of salt.” He scooped the salt and dumped it in. Clark froze when he turned back from the microwave. “Did you already put the salt in there?”

He looked down at the white granules. “Yes?” he said. Clark looked down at the bowl, then back up at him.

“This is a teaspoon,” Clark said pulling the spoons from his hand and showing him a much smaller spoon. “That's okay though,” Clark said with a smile. “Now four  _ tea _ spoons of baking powder.” He counted out the scoops as he dumped them in. Clark's smile grew with each droned number. Clark poured in milk and melted butter. He took the whisk when Clark offered it to him and started mixing. He could do this. He watched Clark move around the kitchen as he mixed. Selina and him had never been fans of cooking. They could make the basics, and Selina had always made the best pasta, but it wasn't something they enjoyed. Clark looked happy even as he wiped down the counters.

“Do you cook often?”

“Not as often as I'd like,” Clark replied. He took the bowl and pulled him over to the soup. “Okay so just take a spoonful and place it in the pot.” He looked at the batter in Clark's hands and back to the pot.

“You're not going to cook them?” he asked.

“They'll cook in there. Trust me.” After eyeing Clark for a moment, he scooped a spoonful and carefully dropped it into the pot. He kept going until there wasn't any more room. “Toss the lid back on for me?” Clark asked dropping the bowl into the sink. “Now we wait,” Clark said.

“What exactly are we eating?” he asked as he settled back onto the stool.

“Chicken and Dumplings. My ma’s famous recipe. There have been heists to get this recipe.”

“Heists?”

“Smallville is a crime ridden town, I'll have you know. My mother once committed Grand Theft Pie at the fair.”

“Sounds like an interesting childhood,” he said with a smirk.

“It was. My mother knew how cute I was. Used me as a distraction on many an occasion. No mother could resist my manners or smile.” Clark smiled big and bat his eyes. “They still swoon.” Bruce didn't blame them. “Your mother never used you for crime?”

“Crime? No. Status boosting? Yes.” Clark tilted his head. “Your son is on the honor roll? My Brucie is at the top of his class.” He scoffed. “I think I'd prefer a life of crime.”

“Wait a minute. You're smart too?” Clark started touching his fingers like he was counting down a list in his head. “How are you real?” He laughed. Clark was watching him when his laughter died into sporadic chuckles. “Seriously though. I don't blame Selina for snatching you up so early.”

The timer went off and Clark grabbed bowls. He refilled their glasses. Clark spun the bowl onto the counter in front of him. “Nothing fancy, but it tastes pretty good.” He breathed in the smell and sighed. It had been a while since he'd had a home-cooked meal like this. They ate and talked about the league, because it was easy.

When his spoon scraped up the last of the broth Clark leaned back in his stool. “I think I might put a tablespoon of salt in my dumplings from now on.”

“This was pretty good.” He set his spoon down and finished the last of his wine. “It's odd, but this kind of reminds me of when I got sick as a kid. I'd curl up in my mom's lap with a bowl of soup and we'd watch old Black and White films.” Clark was quiet for a moment, gazing at him.

“Now we're watching depressing medical shows instead,” Clark said standing up suddenly.

He followed him out into the living room. “Okay, so bear with me. I have like 10 remotes.” He sat back on the couch and watched Clark slowly get the TV turned on. He bit back a laugh when the show started with no sound. Then the sound started playing, but the TV had switched to cable. Eventually the sound and screen were both playing the same thing. Clark settled down next to him, shoulder bumping against his. “One episode right?”

“Yes, only one.” They focused on the show.

“Oh shit,” Clark said when Derek and Meredith ran into each other at the hospital. “That's the-” The room suddenly went dark.

“Did the power just go out?” he asked. Clark pulled open the curtains and the little light that was left shined through.

“It's been happening off and on the last couple weeks. They're doing construction down the road and it's been causing some issues. Old buildings.” Clark pulled out a half used candle from a kitchen drawer and lit it. He set out a few more and they stood in the living room in the flickering light. “I have some cards if you want to stay.”

 

-

 

“Go fish.” Clark drew a card with a frown. “Do you have any threes?” He asked. Clark cursed and handed over his threes. “Do you have any nines?” He grinned when Clark handed over the nine. He drew the last 3 cards in the stack and smiled. They were all the Aces Clark had asked him for the previous turn. Clark threw the card at him. “How many games is that?” he asked. 

“I beat you at every slapjack game.” Clark replied while he handed over the two sets he'd managed to get.

“Because I didn't want to get my hand broken.”

“Excuses.” Clark smiled and pushed up to grab another candle. One of them had gone out in the middle of the game.

“Do you remember how to play Old Maid?” he called as he shuffled.

“Kind of lame with the two of us. If I don't have it, you do.” Clark said sitting back down. “War?”

The power came back on a few rounds in. Clark's stack was nearly twice his, so he was glad for the interruption. The lights coming back on was a wake up call. He checked his phone. It was nearly midnight.

“Have we really been playing for that long?” he asked and stood to help Clark clean up the candles. “I should probably be heading home.”

“You could stay.” He looked over to Clark who was packing the candles back where they belonged.

He wasn't exactly looking forward to making the drive back. He knew it wouldn't be any better in the morning, but he agreed anyway. “Okay,” he replied. Clark seemed a little surprised by his comment. He grabbed the deck of cards. “These were mine right?”

Clark snatched the bigger stack from his hands and sat back down on the couch. “Nice try.”

He dropped his last card, the three of hearts, and didn't even bother checking if he won. He pushed into Clark's space and kissed the smirk that had been growing for the last half hour. He heard the cards flutter to the floor.

“I still won,” Clark said a moment later. He huffed and kissed him again. He hated that smirk, but it was also the most attractive thing he'd seen. Of course he'd seen it on the ice when the Mammoths had a big lead, but sitting across the couch from him gloating about a card game… He bit Clark's lip. He let Clark pull him down and they were making out like the teenagers they hadn't been in decades. Clark's hand on his ass surprised him. He jolted and Clark's hand lifted. “Sorry, it's a nice ass.” Clark grinned up at him.

“Then why'd you stop,” he mumbled kissing Clark so he could stop looking at that perfect smiling face. He barely resisted the urge to kiss the single dimple on his cheek. Clark's hand was back, pulling him against him. “We should probably move to a bed.”

“You're probably right,” Clark replied, but made no move to get up. He laughed and pushed off. Clark followed, sitting up.

“Come on. Bed.” He walked toward the bedroom, or what he hoped was the bedroom, and pulled his shirt off as he went. Clark was still sitting on the couch staring when he glanced back. “I can start without you.”

Clark jumped to his feet. He smiled and pushed the door open. It was the bedroom. The California King took up most of the room. Everything was surprisingly modern. He had expected more natural wood, not black. Clark wrapped his arms around him from behind and walked him to the mattress. He turned to pull Clark into a kiss. Clark's shirt and pants vanished.

“Gonna make a shrine to these pants,” Clark said as he tugged them down. He rolled his eyes, but couldn't repress the smile. Clark leaned up and kissed him. “Your smile is my favorite.”

“Oh yeah?” he teased. Clark seemed a little flustered that he'd let that slip. Clark nodded against his shoulder. “Yours is pretty great too,” he mumbled. Clark huffed a laugh against his skin.

He pushed Clark up and rolled over. Clark's hands settled on his hips and he could feel him looking at him. Clark touched the scar on his spine. He had wondered if he had seen it the last time. It looked like he hadn't.

“Surgery two seasons ago.” Clark kissed it. Then trailed kisses up his back. The tiny sound of a bottle opening had him tensing. He breathed and reminded himself that he had done this before.  _ They _ had done this before. But they hadn't exactly been sober either time. Clark's hands hadn't felt like fire along his skin. He didn't remember the noises he couldn't stop as Clark kissed him. They at least remembered a condom this time. A long groan rolled out of him as Clark pushed in and he moved to meet him. Clark hissed a curse. This was better than the first. There was a moment of hesitation before Clark pulled out and slammed back in. A moan was punched out of him and he pushed against his grip on the headboard. Clark drew out and in again. He held on and let the pleas and cries fall from his mouth. Clark's grip on his hip was hard. He pushed back leaning back against Clark's chest so he could try for a kiss. Clark captured his lips and continued his punishing pace. He wrapped his hand around himself. Clark's mouth dropped to his shoulder as he panted and tried to hold out. Clark let his arm that had been holding him up drop so he could take his hips in both hands. “Shit,” he breathed. His orgasm surprised him. Clark stopped moving. He slumped back against him. He felt the little movements, like queries. Each one was… “Too much,” he whispered. Clark stopped. He groaned as he slid out. He pushed Clark to the bed. He leaned up to kiss him as he let Clark thrust into the circle of his fingers. Clark came with his name on his lips. He kissed him as Clark tried to settle his breathing.

He drifted off on Clark's shoulder.

 

-

 

Bruce had woken up in the middle of the night and set the alarm on his phone. He'd pulled on his boxers smiling at Clark, starfished across the bed. When he woke up in the morning, alarm quietly chirping at him, he was surprised to be alone in the bed. He hadn't expected Clark to be awake so early.  _ He _ didn't want to be awake that early. He pushed up, pulling on his pants and heading for the door where he was pretty sure he'd dropped his shirt. Clark was already in the kitchen. He had a pot of coffee made and was flipping an omelet in a skillet.

“How are you alive this early?” he growled. Clark jumped, nearly dropping the pan.

“You can take the boy out of the farm, but you can't take the farm out of the boy.” He blinked at Clark. “Woke up early my whole life. Habit.”

“Could I get a cup?” he asked pointing at the pot. Clark gestured for him to help himself. “No tomatoes,” he said when Clark started on a second omelet. Clark eyed him for a moment then chuckled to himself. He drained one mug and poured a second before sitting down.

“So this is pre-coffee Bruce?” Clark asked.

“This is pre-10am Bruce,” he replied with a yawn. Clark was grinning as he set the plate of eggs in front of him. He grumbled a thanks and set about devouring the food.

Clark had never seen a person moved as elegantly as Bruce. Even half dressed at six in the morning, hair perfectly ruffled and eyes still heavy with sleep, his fingers practically danced across his plate as he used his cutlery with a surgical precision. And he knew it wasn't fair of him, but he couldn't help but think of Diana. She was always up with the sun, usually the one to drag him out of bed for some new sort of yoga class or a run that would kick his ass. She ate like a savage, with her fingers, not a hair ever out of place. She'd been untouchable. But everything about Bruce made Clark want to take a handful of him. 

He barely managed to keep his hands to himself as they ate, skimming over the morning paper that he usually just kept for the political cartoons and social pieces. And as he drank his coffee, letting the comfortable silence stretch between them, the strangeness of the situation finally hit him tying his stomach in a knot.

Bruce was flipping through the sports news as he nursed his third cup of coffee, only stopping when he realised that Clark was staring at him. He straightened his shirt and frown. “What?” he asked, his hand automatically going up to his hair.

Man, he had it bad. His heart clenched and a thrill ran up his spine as Clark scratched as the stubble on his cheek. “I'm gonna need your practice schedule,” he told him. Bruce looked confused and Clark chuckled at him, looking back down at the paper to play nonchalant. “So I know when I can ask you out again.”

“Oh. ” Clark loved the tiniest hint of the smile that curled in the corner of Bruce's mouth as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He scrolled through something and asked Clark for his email and a minute later his phone alerted him to a new email from Bruce Wayne. Breakfast wrapped up quickly after that. Clark did the dishes while Bruce cleaned himself up and all too soon he was walking him to the door.

The kiss was meant to be short, but that fell into minutes and they both has to catch their breath when Bruce finally pulled away.

“Let me know when you make it back?” Clark breathed regretfully and Bruce grinned at him as he promised to let him know.

 

-

 

Bruce let him know that he made it back to Gotham by sending him a photo of Jason glaring at him from where he was perched on the counter with his hair stuck out and every angle. The caption said, “Home sweet home.” Clark smiled so hard at his screen that he had to physically hold his phone over his head to keep Lois from trying to steal it. 

Bruce texted him for the next few days. Small tidbits and pictures. But mostly it was just scheduling. He would send Clark what they were doing at practice that day and if Jason had a game. He would tell him what time he was planning to be places when he got there. He communicated everything and anything and Clark just stared at the same sentence that he kept typing and erasing every ten minutes. He kept his awkward radio silence until Wednesday night when his phone vibed as he was putting his newly cleaned dishes away.

**BW** : Are you there?

He couldn't do it anymore. Clark dried his hands and pressed dial and Bruce answered on the second ring.

“Hello?” he asked confused.

“I can't text,” Clark sighed in defeat. Leaning back against the counter.

“Oh, well if you are busy I can-"

“No, no not that,” he laughed through the twinge of embarrassment that tied his gut in a knot. “I physically can't do it. I'm not witty enough and my thumbs are too big so I misspell everything and I don't want you to think I'm illiterate.”

The other end of the line was quiet and then when Clark thought Bruce might have hung up, he laughed. “So you haven't been ignoring me.”

He rolled his eyes, happy but feeling stupid. “I've been rewriting the same thing over and over.” he admitted.

“And what would that be?” Bruce asked.

“That I think it's adorable that you send me an itinerary of your day.”

“I haven't-" Bruce stopped. “I have been doing that.” He muttered like he really hadn't noticed and Clark grinned into his phone. “I only really text Selina. Usually it's about where Jason is.”

“I like knowing where you and Jason are.” He muttered the beginning of great fondness blooming in his chest. “What are y’all up to today?”

 

-

 

He called at 5pm for the rest of the week and Bruce always answered. It was the only time that they were both out of practice and just before pregame. They didn't really have time to talk about a lot, but those 30 minutes were quickly becoming the best part of his day. He learned that Bruce hated cardio. More than anything in the world. That he read the paper every single day. He learned that he had a degree in classics that he was never going to use, but to wax poetic about the Odyssey like he wrote it. He learned that Jason was horrible at math and apparently it was genetic. Bruce had spent a month reading through a textbook so that he could help him but it wasn't any use. He also knew that Jason loved shooter video games and Bruce very much did not. But he would play those old school crawler fighting ones when he couldn't sleep. Which was a lot. Sometimes he called Clark and told him how stupid they were. He loved those nights. 

But Clark liked to sleep, and he did sleep as often as he could. So when he gave Bruce a late night call, it was easy to see why he was confused. “Are you okay?” Bruce asked in place of hello.

“Hello, honey, I'm so glad to hear from you too,” Clark mocked him and could practically hear the eye roll through the phone.

“You are never up this late,” he accused.

“I'm not,” Clark agreed. “But I couldn't get out of the post game celebration this time,” and not for lack of trying. He’d begged, but after the goal him and Kang had combined for during overtime he hadn't been able to say know when the kid had insisted. Clark had been unable to deny him since rookie year, and Kang knew that. So he went out. When he got home and saw the hour he knew that Bruce would be up. “I figured I should check in with my favorite insomniac.”

Bruce tssked him. “And how many do you know?”

“One,” Clark admitted with a groaning sigh as he fell onto his bed and kicked his shoes off. “I'm getting too old for this.”

“I know how you feel,” Bruce muttered. “And watch who you're calling old.”

“Yes sir,” he smirked and rolled so that he was facing the bedside table where he had left the tickets that he'd bought off of Jimmy's mom. “ What are you doing this Tuesday?” he asked.

“Didn't I send you my schedule?”

“Don't ruin the fun,” he pouted and stretched. “Answer the question.”

Bruce sighed, “I'm not doing anything.”

“Great!” He laughed. “Then you can spend the afternoon with me.”

“Doing what?” he asked warily again but Clark could hear that he was smiling.

“I'm not telling you,” he teased in a sing song voice and the play argument that ensued took them well into the next morning

 

-

 

“How do I look?” he asked for the fifth time as he stepped out of his closet and back into the bathroom. 

Jimmy glanced up from his phone, all but rolling his eyes as he smirked at his blue jeans and brown sweater. “Great,” he told him again. “All of the old ladies at the rec center will love you.” and Jimmy grinned a little at that. He couldn't get over the way that Clark had jumped at the chance when his mom said she wouldn't make it to the convention.

“Stop. You’re making me feel stupid,” he whined but it was too late. This was stupid. “He grows roses! And it's the only place we probably won't be recognized.”

Jimmy held up his hands. “Calm down, I'm sure that Bruce Wayne, hockey god and check king will absolutely love walking through a flower convention with you.”

Clark wanted to say more but the knock on the door told him that he was out of time and it was time to face the music no matter what came on. Jimmy followed him into the living room and grinned over Clark's shoulder when he opened the door to Bruce looking as beautiful as ever. He looked oddly shy, but then he remembered Jimmy standing behind him. “Bruce, you know Jimmy Olson,” he said as he grabbed his best friend's arm. “He was just leaving.” Clark pushed him out the door and pulled Bruce in at the same time hearing a disgruntled, ‘Hey!’ through the door.

He kissed Bruce harder than he meant to, but he couldn't help it. It had been nearly ten days since he had seen him and everything in him longed to take him back to his bedroom and lock him in.

“I didn't know you wore glasses,” Bruce muttered when they pulled apart. Clark felt himself turning red and shrugged. He'd been weird about his glasses since he was a kid.

“I'm dating a genius. Thought I should look the part.” He kissed Bruce again before he could protest. “I missed you.” He smiled at Bruce, running his hands down his arms. “But we are going to be late. C’mon.”

 

\---

 

Clark ducked his head as they walked into the convention center. He watched him stumble when a man easily twice his age bumped into him and couldn't help the laugh. Clark looked up at him. Confusion peeking out behind the thick rimmed glasses. “So this is some kind of disguise?” he asked.

“My contacts were bothering me.” Clark frowned at him and adjusted the glasses. He saw the insecurity there and was surprised by it. Clark handed over the tickets to the attendant.

“They suit you,” he murmured. “The glasses.” Clark looked over to him and he got to watch a full smile bloom on his face. He looked away and sucked in a breath. “Oh wow. I haven't been to one of these since I was a kid.”

“I didn't even know they had flower shows until a week ago,” Clark admitted.

“My mother wanted me to think about something besides hockey. I think Alfred dragged me along to carry things for him.” He looked at each section they passed with fascination. “I ended up with an obsession and my mother ended up with a garden of roses. I think she was happy with the outcome.”

They walked around looking at the different displays. He told Clark the different types of flowers that he recognized and how hard some of them were to grow. He was worried as they moved through the maze of displays that Clark would get bored, but he kept smiling and looking at him when he talked. They passed a booth and he paused. The woman sitting in the booth noticed his hesitation and greeted them.

“What is that smell?” he asked stepping closer.

“My bread. I make my own to go with the jams.” She lifted the cover revealing an array of jams and slices of bread. “Try some.” He looked over to Clark who shrugged and took some too.

“Roses aren't only nice to look at. They taste pretty good too don't you think?” she asked. They talked with her about everything she'd made using the flowers she grew. Clark seemed interested as they dove into the cooking.

Another pair of people walked up and they apologized for taking up her time before moving on. Clark had two jars of jam in a bag at his side. He stopped at a another woman who had roses in an array of colors set out around her table. He asked her about the bushes and complimented her care.

“Each color means something,” he said to Clark when the woman turned to another customer. He realized he'd gotten lost in the conversation. It was rare that he got to talk about his hobby. Even rarer that someone appreciated his own hybrid. “Red is romance,” he said.

“I knew that one. I've never seen a yellow rose before. I know the song, but I didn't think they were real.” Clark touched the leaves. “What does yellow mean?”

“Joy and friendship.” He stopped in front of the only bush without a bloom. The tag said lavender and he glanced at Clark. “I'll take these,” he told the woman when she turned back to him. She smiled at him as she took his money.

“Best of luck,” she offered.

He took Clark's free hand. “I think I heard someone said they were selling tea a few booths up,” he offered. Clark squeezed his hand.

“Flower teas?” Clark asked.

“Most likely,” he said with a grin.

They were the last few people there. He wasn't ready for the date to be over yet. It had felt like they were in their own world where they could hold hands and be together without worrying about anything. Clark's slow walk back to the exit left him feeling like he didn't want to leave either. His hand slipped out of Clark's and he adjusted the pot in his arms. The drive back to Clark's apartment was quiet. A thought hit him as they turned onto his street.

“You told Olson?” He kept his voice even. Clark's eyes flicked over to him. “It's fine,” he said a second later. He didn't want to risk a fight. Not over something that didn't bother him.

“I did. I had to tell someone. He's my best friend. I- I haven't told anyone else,” Clark said. Bruce had thought about telling Jack, or Harvey. He'd considered it, but when it had come down to it, he couldn't. Selina had been right. He had needed to talk about it, and he didn't have anyone else that he thought would understand. He was glad that Clark had someone.

“Do you want to?” he asked.

“I don't know. Is that the wrong answer? It feels wrong.” He rubbed his thumb over Clark's hand on the gear shift between them.

“No. It's not. I think I feel the same way.” The silence that followed was filled with thoughts. Clark pulled into the parking spot and they sat there with the engine idling.

“Cl-”

“Do y-”

They both stopped and let out the uncomfortable laughs.

“Do you want to come up? I can whip together something quick.”

His phone started buzzing as he climbed out of the car. Selina's contact photo, a picture of her Halloween costume from the year before, filled the screen. He apologized and answered it.

“Did Jason talk to you about missing curfew?” Selina asked. He could hear the stress in her voice.

“No.” He checked the clock. Jason was thirty minutes late. He'd never missed a curfew before.

“He's not answering my calls. This isn't like him.”

“I know it's not. Don't worry. I'm sure he's just away from his phone.”

“What if he's not?” Selina asked, her voice barely above a whisper. He looked to Clark who was waiting, watching him, concerned. He hoped he could see the apology in his eyes.

“I'm on my way back. I'll try calling him. If you hear from him or he comes home let me know.”

“You don't have to-”

“Selina.”

After he hung up Clark looked even more concerned. He told him the other side of the conversation. Clark gave him a quick kiss and told him to let him know that Jason was okay. He tucked the roses into the passenger seat and looked at Clark waving at him before heading back to Gotham.

 

-

 

Jason got home halfway through his drive back. Selina had sounded like she'd been crying when she called. She had told him that Jason was grounded. When she'd told Bruce ‘and that means no games’ he'd agreed like she obviously hadn't expected. He told her to check on Jason and go to sleep that he'd be home in an hour. 

Clark answered at the first ring.

“He's okay?” Clark asked.

“Grounded and being a shit to his mom, but he's okay.”

“That's good. You didn't have to call.”

“I wanted to. I also wanted to apologize that our date didn't end how we wanted.”

“I had a nice time anyway,” Clark replied. He could hear the rustle of his sheets. “And I know Jason comes first. I don't think I'd like you like I do if you'd stayed.”

“It's probably going to happen again. Maybe not this, but something.” He didn’t know why it had suddenly hit him that he should be warning Clark off. He hadn't asked to be pulled into his family life.

“Bruce. I like Jason. I like that you send me pictures of him eating cereal almost every morning.” He winced. He thought he'd settled down with that. “I like how hard you work at being a good dad and making sure that you're there if he needs you. I like all that, so stop worrying about me changing my mind because your son is important to you. That's how it should be.”

“You rehearse that speech?” he asked, laughing past the thickness in his throat. 

“Only every morning in front of the mirror,” Clark retorted. “Right about the time I get to judge Jason's bed head.”

“He needs a haircut,” he mumbled. “Yesterday's was pretty bad.” He chuckled. Clark talked to him for the rest of the drive, even though he could hear him stifling yawns. 

 

-

 

He skated out to center ice and smiled briefly at Clark. One of the refs did a double take as he skated by. The puck dropped and he won it before picking it up and handing it to the family who had done the drop. He shook Clark's hand. 

“I owe you a date.” Clark lit up. They had been talking longer each day, but had yet to get their schedules lined up. They'd planned on lunch before the game, but Jason had gotten into a fight at school and he's spent the afternoon talking with the principal. “When you get back from Coast City. I'll cook.”

“What did Kent say this time?” Jack asked when he skated back to the bench. “You looked pretty serious.”

“It was nothing.”

He skated back to center ice and faced off with Clark again.

“Remember that teaspoons are the small ones,” Clark chirped.

“That was one time,” he replied. The ref blinked at them. He looked across at Clark then down at the ice.

 

-

 

“Please don't taste bad,” he told the sausage as he broke it with the spoon. He watched it cook. Alfred had gone over every step with him the night before. He glanced at his page of notes. “Not pink,” he mumbled. He poked at the sausage again and it stayed pink. He resisted the urge to turn up the heat. Alfred had been clear. A few minutes passed with him poking at different bits of sausage until they were cooked. He poured in the wine and then the tomatoes. 

He mixed the cheese with the pasta. It wasn't looking right, but he wasn't sure what it was supposed to look like, so he went with it. He poured the pasta cheese mix into the pan, the clatter of the noodles on the dish was louder than he expected. He reread his notes before he poured the sauce over the noodles. He was lighter with cheese on top. He slid the dish into the oven.

Clark texted him that he'd be there in a few minutes. He pulled off the apron and straightened the silverware on the table. He was nervous. He hadn't been this nervous in a while. The doorbell rang and he knocked over the wine glass he'd been spinning. He caught it and put it upright.

“Hi,” he breathed when he opened the door. Clark smiled and returned the greeting. He stepped aside and offered to take Clark's jacket. As Clark shrugged out of it he told himself to stop being so formal. He out the jacket in the closet and guided Clark to the kitchen.

“Smells good,” Clark offered.

“I hope it tastes good.” He looked at the timer. It still had 5 minutes to go. He looked in the oven. “Shit,” he cursed.

Clark leaned over the counter of the island and watched as Bruce pulled the oven open, smoke billowing out into the kitchen. Fortunately it seemed like someone had had the forethought to remove the fire alarm from the room because the only sounds that filled the silence were simmering and Bruce's quiet string of fucks. He didn't look back at Clark when he finally settled, his eyes set on the stove and whatever he had placed there. When it seemed evident that he would not acknowledge him, Clark walked around the island and looked over his shoulder.

It was burnt. He had to call it an it because he had no idea what it was supposed to be. By the smell he would say cheese which would explain why it had burnt since most cheese crusts went on half way through casserole dishes. But it didn't smell bad. It smelled rich and full of herbs. He guessed at one of the drawers next to him and found a bunch of wooden spoons. “What are you doing?” Bruce asked when he pulled one out and came back to stand next to him. Clark didn't answer, he just put a hand on Bruce’s back and stabbed the spoon through the crust, releasing a great smelling steam. He scooped up a few noodles and blew on it. Bruce reached for the spoon,”Clark, don’t. It's not-” but he took a bite anyway and kept his face thoughtful as he chewed the hard pasta, rubbing a reassuring circle into Bruce’s back.

“You know,” he said after he swallowed. He put the spoon down and held Bruce at his shoulders so that he had to face him. “The flavor is great. If the pasta were cooked the it would be almost edible.” He grinned as Bruce groaned and let Clark pull him into him so he could hide his face in his chest.

“I'm never cooking again,” he grumbled, muffled by Clark's sweater, but the tension that had been radiating off of him since he got there was almost gone.

Clark laughed. “This just gives me the perfect opportunity to ask the most important question in a relationship.” Bruce looked at him warily as Clark scrolled through his phone for listings. “What do you like on your pizza?”

 

-

 

Bruce liked pineapple, but he didn't like ham. Or bacon. Pepperoni was okay with the pineapple and he could deal with olives. They ended up with a lot of weird toppings and the delivery guy had a weird look on his face until he realized who answered the door. Clark signed his hat for him. Bruce was still setting up the den when he brought the pizza back down the hall with a few glasses of ice. He stood in the doorway and watched him shove pillows into corners of the wrap couch before he threw them back where they had been. Clark was pretty sure that he had turned on a few different lamps too and killed the overhead to set the right mood.

It was adorable. So adorable that Clark didn't want to break the moment but he felt that if he didn't, he'd pay for spying later. He took a step back and pretended to walk back into the room, shaking the cups so Bruce would know he was coming. Just as Clark expected, he snapped up to pretend he hadn't been fussing around and Clark let him. “I still can't believe they only had Pepsi.” Clark wrinkled his nose as he set the pizza pox and 2 liter on the coffee table.

“It's the superior soda.” Bruce smirked at him as he turned the TV on with his one universal remote.

Clark made a mental note that he needed to get one and was about to argue when he saw that there were plates already out. And silverware. “Wait.” Clark held a hand up and deadpanned him. “Did you seriously set out silverware for pizza?”

Bruce looked over his shoulder at him, raising a dark eyebrow in utter defiance as he stared at him. “I'm not a heathen,” he told him daring Clark to say something back.

But he was too busy appreciating the view. “You most certainly are not,” he muttered and poured the stupid soda.

They watch five episodes of Grey's Anatomy and Clark knew right away that it wasn’t for him. It was fun to watch Bruce watch it though, already invested though Clark was sure that he had seen it a hundred times. He could feel Bruce turning to look at him when pivotal points happened and forced down his grin every time. Clark enjoyed the feeling of Bruce’s shoulder leaning more and more into him the longer that they watched.

“Who dances like that?” Clark laughed when Meredith jumped onto the couch with a bottle of tequila. “All they are doing is jumping and moving their heads around like they are listening to real music instead of this poppy garbage.”

“Pop garbage?” Bruce demanded, “How can you not like pop music?”

“I don’t  _ hate _ pop music.” Clark insisted. “It’s just not my favorite.”

“What is?” Bruce asked.

“Where is your stereo?” Clark asked. Bruce pointed him over to the cupboard under the entertainment system. He pulled out his phone and flipped through his music until he stopped on the playlist his mom and him had made over the last Thanksgiving break. It took him a few minutes to figure out how to get his bluetooth on, but once he managed it Sam Cooke crooned all around the room about bringing it on home. Bruce groaned from the couch and Clark laughed as he walked back over and pulled him out of his seat and into an easy swaying step. Bruce let Clark lead without hesitation. “I didn’t take you as a follower,” he muttered after a verse went by.

Bruce’s eyes were watching his mouth when he asked and darted back up to his eyes, “Have you met my wife?” he asked. Clark rested his forehead against Bruce’s as he chuckled. He closed his eyes when the song changed to Fooled Around and Fell In Love, musing over how appropriate that was when Bruce pulled him back. “Clark?” he asked. He hummed in response. Bruce continued hesitantly, “Why haven't you ever been married?”

It wasn’t like he hadn’t been asked the question before. He was thirty two and wealthy and considered one of the most eligible bachelors in Metropolis. Reporters asked him every day when he was going to settle down but he never had an answer for them. He kept his eyes closed until the song ended and the next crooner played. Bruce was frowning at him when he finally opened them back up. He kept them dancing. “My parents got married when my Ma was seventeen,” he told him. “She wasn’t even out of highschool. Her and my Pa had been together for a couple of months before he graduated and over summer break they found out that she was pregnant. My grandparents were pissed, you know, Smallville being the world's smallest town. People knew immediately. So they got married and they had me like they had planned it all along.” He rubbed his thumb in reassuring circles on the small of Bruce’s back, not liking the way that his brows had drawn in. “My parents love each other,” Clark told him. “I have never seen two people love each other more than they do. They never go to bed angry with each other and they work so hard... Every Sunday after church my mom would put on crooners and we would all clean the house- but every once in a while I would catch them dancing in the kitchen when they thought I was in another room. Just looking at each other. Like they didn’t need words, you know? They already knew what they would say. They did that every Sunday.”

They weren't really dancing anymore, but they were still hold each other and just kind of swaying to the music. “I want to get married… eventually. And I wasn’t just wasting time with Diana, I did love her. But she didn’t want to work through our problems, she just wanted to fix them. We weren’t working with each other. It was like we were working against each other all the time-- I want a partner, Bruce. I want someone who wants me for me. I want someone who’ll dance in the kitchen with me on Sunday mornings.” He forced a laugh and shook his head, trying to push the heat crawling up his neck back down, “And, as lame as this is about to sound, this,” he pulled him closer with a small squeeze. “This is the closest I have ever felt to having that.” He swallowed and could feel his breath shakily on his bottom lip. “Bruce… I know this is all going so fast, but I think-”

Bruce kissed him, his entire hand covering the back of his neck in warmth that bloomed down in his chest. His hand traced up Bruce’s back as he pulled him even closer, if that were possible but he pulled away to soon. Clark pouted but Bruce didn’t pay him any mind. He slipped out of his arms and grabbed his wrist so he could pull him out of the den and back to the entry and up the stairs. They were moving quickly, but he still managed to catch a few of the pictures on the walls, old family portraits and paintings that looked older than the house. Bruce pulled him into a room at the end of the hall. It was bigger than his living room and kitchen combined, but he didn’t get to look at it for long. Bruce kissed him again and Clark kissed him back, hard and heavy with all the feeling he had in him before he had to chance to say anything else stupid.

He kissed Clark. He knew the words that he was going to say. He knew and wasn't ready to hear them yet. He wanted to hear those words. But he wanted to hear them when the divorce was finalized, when he wouldn't feel guilty, and he could let himself feel the same and maybe say them back. So he kissed Clark.

He kissed him and kept kissing him. He put all that possibility and feeling into the kisses and could feel Clark do the same. There was no question of how Clark felt as they came together. He could feel it in every touch and kiss. Every breath and noise he made. He let it wrap around him until there was nothing but them and that feeling.

He laid down next to Clark and watched him look around the room. He seemed amazed by the size of it. His eyes followed the molding along the ceiling. They flicked across the paintings on the walls. When they returned to him he looked a little out of his depth. He laced their fingers together.

“It's big. I know. There have been days when I've wanted to move. To sell the manor and the land and buy someplace downtown. But this is where Jason grew up, where I grew up, where my father did. It's home.”

“I didn't say anything,” Clark replied. His eyes went back to looking around the room.

“You didn't have to. I've seen that look before.”

Clark looked back over to him. His eyes went soft before he grinned. “Do you have statues of lions guarding a staircase?”

“They are guarding the mausoleum,” he intoned.

“You have a mausoleum? How many ghosts are in this place?” He chuckled and Clark smiled. “You aren't answering. You don't know do you?” Clark poked him and leaned over. He kissed him. Clark leaned into the kiss for a moment before pulling back. “How many ghosts are there?” he asked again, faking concern.

“About to be another if you don't kiss me,” he replied.

“Ooh. Threats of death. I like it.” Clark kissed him.

 

-

 

“Dad?” he looked up from his desk. He'd been reading over a new sponsorship contract. Jason leaned against the doorway looking like he didn't want to step in. “Is mom here?” Jason asked after a second. 

“No, she left this morning for Vancouver. Did you need something?” Jason kicked at the carpet. He could see something was bothering him. He'd always gone to Selina with problems. They talked, but only after Jason has told his mom and he'd gotten the filtered down version of the problem. It looked like Jason was trying to decide if he was going to break the tradition or not.

“What is kissing supposed to feel like?” Jason blurted stepping into the office. He sat down on the recliner in the corner and pulled his legs up against his chest. He'd seen that same pose before when he was talking with his mom.

Bruce stared at his son and wished that Selina was there. He'd never been good at this. But he had to be. Jason looked small and too nervous as he looked over his knees at him. He looked down and back up. The three people he'd kissed flashed before his eyes. He looked at Jason feeling lost.

He started talking. He talked about kissing his grandparents and the babies he knew. He talked about kissing Jason. He kept talking and couldn't stop even though he knew it wasn't the question that Jason was asking. Finally Jason stopped him.

“What about mom?” Jason's voice trembled.

“Honestly I don't remember our first kiss. Your mother likes to say I was awful or it was the best kiss she'd ever had depending on how she's feeling. But I don't remember it.” Jason was staring at him when he looked up to check if that had helped. It didn't look like it did. It looked like he'd managed to make it worse. “But not all kisses are like that,” he told him. “Some you keep thinking of. Some leave you breathless and like your world has tilted off its axis. And you wouldn't want it to be corrected if it meant losing that feeling.” The smile that he'd been wearing dropped when he saw tears in Jason's eyes.

“Jason,” he whispered. “What's wrong?” He moved slowly across the room until he was kneeling in front of the recliner.

“I kissed Babs,” Jason croaked out. The tears were flowing even as he tried to wipe them away. “It felt weird.” Jason shook his head and made a face even through the tears.

“It does sometimes,” he admitted. Jason made a noise and hit his face in his knees. There had to be something else going on. A bad kiss couldn't be enough to have his son in hysterics. “You don't have to kiss. If you don't like it. There's nothing-”

“I liked kissing Roy.” Jason said. 

He laughed. Then Jason flinched. “I'm sorry,” he rushed to say, lifting Jason's head from its burrow against his knees. “I shouldn't have laughed. You kissed Roy?” he said softly, trying to prompt him to talk.

“He kissed me. And it was like you said. What if I'm gay?” he asked. He could see the fear and worry in his eyes. He pulled on Jason's legs until he relaxed. Then he hugged him. 

“I love you no matter what.” Jason's arms tightened around him as he kept crying. He seemed relieved when he pulled back. He didn't like knowing that his son had been that afraid to tell him. At the same time, he'd been worried for weeks over telling Jason about Clark. “I'm dating someone,” he said. Jason looked over to him. “I've been worried about telling you. But you were so brave, and I need to be too.” Jason drew one of his legs back up and he could see the unease settling back in his eyes. He didn't like talking about his parents’ divorce. “That kiss? It was Clark.” 

Jason stared at him. He could see that he was confused. But as he opened his mouth to explain recognition hit Jason's face. “You kissed Clark Kent?” Jason gaped. “Wait. You're dating Clark Kent? THE Clark Kent?” 

He smirked and nodded. 

“Is that why you and mom-” 

“No. We had already decided to get divorced before anything happened.”

They talked for a while. He answered Jason's questions. Jason answered his about Roy. When Jason's stomach started rumbling and they decided to go to dinner he left the office lighter than he'd expected. Jason's eyes were red-rimmed, but he was smiling and laughing as they argued over what to get to eat. 

 

-

 

“I was just about to call you,” Clark said as he answered the phone. 

“I never thought about telling my parents,” Bruce blurted.

“What?” 

“About us. I never considered telling them. Their opinions about who I'm with have never mattered to me. But I know how much your parents mean to you.” He was pacing in the kitchen. Jason had gone up to bed. He'd meant to let his nerves settle a little before calling Clark, but his phone had been in his hand and dialing before Jason's door had even shut. 

“They do,” Clark agreed. He could hear the skepticism through the phone. He hesitated and the silence stretched for a few beats. “Bruce where is this coming from?” 

“I told Jason. About us. That we're together.” He paused. “I know it's soon, and I'm not saying we have to now, but I think we should make an announcement. Things would go better if we were the ones to release the news.”

“You want to tell the press? To tell everyone?” Clark's voice was high, panicked. 

“I want to date you. I don't want to have to put on disguises and sneak into each other's homes.” 

“Bruce…” 

“It doesn't have to be right now. It doesn't even have to be months from now. But everyone in my life who truly matters to me knows.” 

Clark was quiet, but he could hear the soft whooshing of his breath over the line. He knew that silence was him gathering his thoughts. He waited. 

“Smallville is exactly that- a small town. I love it and the people are amazing. But-” Clark's voice dropped off. “It's a small town.”

“Clark. It's okay. I only wanted to tell you that I told Jason and my thoughts. I'm in no hurry. I shouldn't have dumped it on you like that.”

“What did Jason say?” Clark asked, a subtle shift in topic. 

“He was excited after a little while. He made me tell him all about you. He was mortified that I'd been sending you pictures of him.” He chuckled. 

They talked a little more, about Clark's day and a little more about Jason. He held back telling Clark the other revelation of the day. It was Jason's to tell when he wanted to. 

 

-

 

Selina sat across the table from him. She'd come home when Jason had asked. He'd spent another week talking about being gay. A week trying out the label and making sure it felt right to him. Jason had stood next to Bruce at the breakfast table and told Selina he was gay before snatching his bag off the back of his chair and running out the door. She put her fork down and looked to the door and back. 

“He's gay?”

He nodded.

“It's not that frog kid is it?”

He chuckled. “No. It's Roy. He's on the team too. Red head who never takes off the hat.”

She nodded and smiled. “Cute kid. Our son has good tastes.”

“He asked me not to tell you. He wanted to tell you himself when he was sure.” She waved his worry off.

“I would have done the same thing. So spill. How did you react?”

“I laughed?” Selina gasped. “I know. I had been worrying about Jason's reaction to Clark for weeks. I was relieved?”

“You told Jason.” It wasn't a question.

“I did.”

“It's serious then.” She frowned and turned her coffee cup. He watched her spin the handle a few times before she picked it up. “Ask your question.”

“I would like to introduce them. Properly.”

“If I say no?” Selina asked.

“I'd wait.”

“You don't want to though.”

“Selina,” he urged. She looked up at him. “If you told me to wait. If you think I'm rushing this and it's too soon. If you think it'd hurt Jason. I'll wait.”

“You don't want to wait though,” she repeated.

He shook his head.

“Let me talk to Jason.”

 

-

 

Jason changed a few times. He finally settled on one of his school shirts. He'd first come down in a Mammoths shirt. Then he'd changed into a Knights shirt. It had been a long morning. When he'd finally settled on the outfit he'd gone quiet. The whole ride to the pier he hadn't said a word. Bruce parked and turned around to look at him in the back seat. 

“If you aren't comfortable we can go back home. It's okay.”

“No. I want to.” He could see the but coming, but Jason didn't continue.

“What's the matter?”

“I want him to like me. What if he doesn't?” He smiled. He'd answered the same question for Clark the night before. Clark had worried that he wouldn't live up to what Jason expected him to be.

“He'd be stupid not to like you. You're the best kid ever.” Jason scoffed, but he looked more sure of himself.

Clark was standing next to the sign welcoming people to the beach. He had a hat pulled low over his eyes. He grinned when he saw the red trunks and navy shirt.

“Couldn't resist could you?” Bruce asked lowly as he stepped up next to Clark. He jumped.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Clark replied.

“Right,” he drawled. “I know you already met, but this is Jason.”

He watched as they awkwardly talked. Clark was trying too hard, but he knew he couldn't step in. So he let them be awkward. They walked down the pier for a while. When they got to the end Jason wanted to go swimming.

They walked down the beach. Jason was between them telling some story about his last practice. Bruce looked over at Clark. Jason had his full attention. 

 

\---

 

Clark changed his clothes five times knowing that he was being ridiculous. Jason was a kid. A kid who already thought that Clark was cool. But he wasn't meeting Clark Kent the hockey player anymore, now he was just Clark Kent, his dad's boyfriend. 

Boyfriend. There was that word again. He had said it a couple of times now to try it out but it felt like there was more behind it now. A weight. A pressure. The conversation he'd had with Bruce a week ago still pushing down on him as panic rose up at the thought of telling his parents that he had one. It wasn't like Clark thought they would be harsh. They would love him no matter what, he was sure of that. Clark was worried that they wouldn't understand. That even if they could see how much happier he was, they wouldn't get why he had to find that happiness with a man. And the thought of the way that Smallville would react if his parents did embrace his relationship made him almost feel worse.

But he did want to come out. To be with Bruce and for people to know that he was. Bruce was one of the most amazing people Clark had ever met. He still didn't know why he had chosen him, why he'd picked him to restart his life with but it didn't matter. What mattered right now was convincing Jason that he was a good enough man for his father. They could figure out the rest later.

He got to the beach a few minutes early glad to see that he blended in pretty well in his hat and sunglasses. He had never been to Gotham when the sun was actually out and frankly it was a little jarring. The beach was packed but that would only make it easier to blend in. Jason and Bruce found him at the welcome sign and he was unable to quell his grin even with his stomach in knots. Bruce reintroduced them and Jason awkwardly held out his hand as Clark went in for a hug. They ended up just kind of patting each other and it only got worse from there.

It took about an hour for them to find some kind of common ground and he clung to it, letting Jason walk him through plays that he had made with his team. He hesitated when he mentioned one of the defense players, but after a nod to Bruce he managed to keep going. It wasn't so awkward after that. They walked down the beach and Clark let Jason convince him to play one on one volleyball which he was horrible at. It didn't help that Bruce was actively helping Jason play against him by coaching from the sidelines. After messing around on the beach for a bit they went up to the boardwalk to grab lunch and Jason left them on a bench outside the arcade so he could play a few rounds of Cheese Viking. Bruce made a face when Clark came back to the bench with ketchup on his corn dog and he made a show of taking a slow, giant bite to gross him out. He grinned with his cheeks crammed full and Bruce forced his eyes down at his own corn dog that he dipped neatly into a small mound of mustard.

He loved how neatly Bruce ate. It was weird and adorable and it made his heart clench so tight in his chest that he almost choked as he swallowed. He loved the way he talked about Jason. And the way the way he held his hand over his mouth when he laughed like he wanted to hide it. He had never felt more relaxed or happy to be around someone before- And he knew that he couldn't say any of that yet. He knew that Bruce didn't want to hear what he felt right then. So he'd have to show him.

“My mom calls me every Friday,” he told Bruce who raised an eyebrow at him. “I told her that I had some things to talk to her about.” He swallowed. “Big stuff, you know?”

Bruce watched him, expression flat except for the surprise that lit up his eyes. He was obviously trying to quell it. “Oh,” was all he said and then he smiled, biting his lip when he was unable to contain it. He took Clark's hand where is was resting on the bench and it was all that Clark could do the bite his tongue to keep from telling Bruce how much he loved him.

 

-

 

The next few days went by too quickly. Practice was starting to get more intense the closer they got to the end of the regular season, but even that wasn’t enough to keep the panic from rising in his gut. 

“This is ridiculous.” He told Jimmy when they left the arena on Tuesday, “I'm a grown was man. I have loving and supportive parents. This shouldn't be this hard.”

“Well who said it had to be easy?” He rolled his eyes and got into his truck, waiting for Jimmy to buckle into the passenger's seat. They sat in silence until he eased out of the parking garage and got back onto the main road. “Look, Clark, I know that you think you need to put on this mister superman face all the time-"

“I don't-"

“You do,” Jimmy argued. “But that isn't the point.”

Clark made a face, “Then what is the point?”

“The point is that you have been in the spotlight for a long time, and because of that you are used to being, you know, everyone's  _ guy _ . You're the guy to beat. The guy to be. Clean cut, straight forward, Clark fucking Kent. You dated one of the most bad ass women on the planet and that is what people expect from you. You aren't exactly known for pulling the rug out from under people.”

“I don't care about what  _ people  _ say,” he muttered even though Jimmy had a valid point. He didn't like being unexpected. But it was who he'd be pulling that rug out from under that bothered him. “I just… my mom is…”

He pulled up to Jimmy's building and he squeezed his shoulder. “Martha is the best mom on the planet. Don't worry, just be honest with her… maybe let  _ her _ tell your dad.”

 

-

 

He walked into pregame practice the next day feeling a little less hopeless. He didn't think anything of it when the team quieted as he entered. They’d had a rough couple of games and the Atlanteans were at the top of the league. He dropped his bag in his stall and started to dress down when Lois grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of dressing room and back into the hall. He could tell she was pissed even if he didn't know why. He was about to ask her what was going on when she shoved a copy of the Daily Planet into his chest. 

“What the actual fuck Clark?” She demanded, crossing her arms as he pulled the paper off his chest. Jimmy rushed into the hall after him, warning him not to look but it was too late.

There were two pictures on the cover. One of Clark and Jason splashing Bruce knee deep in the water of Gotham Bay. Bruce had refused to go any deeper and the picture caught him mid-laugh trying to reprimand them. The other was just Bruce and Clark on the bench, Bruce fighting down in his smile with their hands intertwined between them. He couldn't read the article. He couldn't even read the headline he was so baffled. But it didn't matter, the pictures were proof enough. “I…” he stopped. What was there to say? What should he say? “I can't…”

“How could you not tell me?” She demanded. “I know I'm friends with Diana, but she was horrible to you. I just can't believe that-"

“Lois!” Jimmy shouted to get her to be quiet, the world spinning at Clark's feet. “Dude, shut up. He hasn't even told his mom yet.”

Lois looked back at Clark, her face softening in instant. “You haven't… oh no.” She ran up and tightly hugged him around his middle apologizing over and over. She was the only thing keeping him on his feet.

“This is bad, isn't it?” he finally asked Jimmy once he got feeling back in his tongue. Clark didn't need him to answer though. The look on his face was answer enough. So he called Bruce.

“Hey!” Bruce laughed as he answered and Clark's heart dropped into his stomach. “You'll never believe what Jason just told me.” He heard Jason begging ‘Daaaad’, in the background.

“Bruce-"

He was still laughing. It made it all more horrible. “He went to the grocery store with Selina and thought that the air blasters over the door were to ‘refresh’ you so you can ‘grocery shop better.’”

Bruce kept laughing and he could hear Jason jumping for the phone so he could explain himself. It took everything in him to swallow past the dread and anger he felt in his gut seeing Jason and their stolen moment on the front of the paper.

“Bruce,” he said again. It came out more clipped than he wanted it to. Bruce stopped laughing. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean…” he sighed not knowing what to tell him.

“Is everything okay?” Bruce asked reading his tone through the phone.

He clutched the paper in his fist and detached Lois from where she was still wrapped around his waist so he could walk down the hall. “They outed us, babe.”

Bruce was silent for a minute. “What do you mean? Who?”

“I don't know.” He shook his head and sank down against the wall, hiding his face in his knees. “It's all over the cover of the Daily fucking Planet.”

“Have you… talked to your parents?” Bruce asked, his voice tight and soft.

“No.” He breathed, “But that's not important right now.” He looked down at the paper again.

“Not important? Clark, what could be more important than-"

“They got Jason in the photos.” He barfed out before he could stop himself. “From the beach. I haven't read the article yet, but I bet he's in that too.”

Bruce cursed and he could hear him walking, probably to his room so he could have a little privacy. “I have to call Selina,” he told Clark apologetically.

“I know. I understand.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“I don't know,” Clark answered truthfully. “Maybe if I get through practice before-" His phone vibed. He pulled it away from his ear. “Fuck.”

“Clark?”

“My mom is calling.” Bruce didn’t say anything and Clark's phone kept ringing, his mom’s face in mid laugh on his phone screen. He couldn’t breathe. “Babe, I’m sorry, I have to-”

“I know. I’ll call you tonight,” Bruce promised and then it was just Clark sitting in the hallway of the training center staring at his phone that was still ringing.

He knew that he needed to answer it. His mom was probably freaking out, thinking all of the worst things that she could- but he couldn’t do it. He watched as the screen darkened again and then light up with a notification for his voicemail. He opened the screen and hesitated, his thumb shaking over his mother's name, when the dressing room door opened and Perry called him in to practice.

The team was still quiet. None of them said anything in front of the coach, but Clark could feel that the shared air was mostly cloudy in disapproval and disgust. His feeling was proven fact when Mongul checked him hard enough in practice that he had to get checked for a concussion.

Nothing changed going into the game. The voicemail still sat unopened in his inbox and the team wasn’t taking any of his calls. He took a lot of hits. Mostly from Diana who was fuming now that she had a name and face for his All-Stars fling. But she wasn’t the only one. Arthur was gunning for him too, all of the Atlanteans had taken up swords, driving into the very vulnerable Clark who had no one or way to defend himself. Zod and Mongul avoided all contact with him. Only Sal tried actually blocking any hits. They lost bad and Clark limped off the ice and back into the dressing room where Perry delivered a speech that ground out what little resolve he had left. He sent the team away to change down but called Clark into his office. It was hard not to tuck his tail as he stood in front of his desk as straight as he could, waiting to be grilled.

“I saw the papers this morning,” Perry said after shutting the door and sitting at his desk. “You’re with Bruce Wayne now? Like  _ with _ ‘im?”

He tensed and clenched his fists defensively. “Yes sir,” he grumbled knowing that if he said it any louder it wouldn’t sound so kind. 

Perry nodded. “I like Wayne. Plays a good traditional game. He’s fair. And I imagine you find him a looker?” There was a small amused smile on his face when he finally looked up at Clark. 

Clark cleared his throat and let out an involuntary laugh. “Yes sir.”

“You could do worse,” he said finally. “This is still your team, Kent. You don’t owe it to them to be a straight man. You are a good captain. Just keep being a hell of a hockey player and they’ll fall in line.” 

He hadn’t expected that. He could feel a little of the pressure that had been building in him all day start to release and he took a full breath of air for the first time since first seeing the paper.

“Thank you, sir.” And he meant it more than he could fully express. Perry nodded again and waved that he was free to go.

The dressing room was empty when he got back out of the office and Clark took advantage of the quiet to sink onto the bench and pull out his phone. He pressed the notification before he talked himself out of it. His phone was crushed against the side of his face to keep his hand from shaking as he listened to the voicemail.

_ “Hey son, it’s your Pa. You know that your Ma got a subscription to that paper you have up in Metropolis to keep an eye on you. We… we were a bit surprised to see you with that Wayne fella.”  _  The phone went quiet and Clark covered his eyes with his palm thinking that was it.  _ “I know you must be scared right now,” _ his father’s voice came again surprising him.  _ “I know I would’ve been scared having to talk to my old man about this. But I’m not my father Clark, and you are not me. And whatever man you are and whatever man you wanna love,” _ His voice was so thick that Clark could feel his eyes watering.  _ “Your Ma and I love you son. Give us a call. Ma wants to hear all about him.”  _

 

\---

 

Jason followed him asking him repeatedly what was wrong. Selina didn't answer. He scrolled down a contact to her assistant, but before he could select the number the media team's contact filled the screen. 

“Call your mom. If she answers get me okay? I need to take this.” Jason nodded and walked out of the room looking skeptical, but already on the phone.

“Hello?” he asked as he answered.

“I'm sorry. I thought that I had covered all the outlets.” He blinked for a moment trying to place the voice. It wasn't Gary, their PR lead, that was for sure. “I know I'm just an intern, but I was scrolling through Twitter and saw someone's picture.” It was Jillian. His babysitter from All-Stars. “I called Gary right away. But he didn't believe me. So I started calling all the papers and sites in Gotham. I didn’t think. I'm sorry.”

“Jillian. Breathe. This isn't your fault.” He walked around the room. “How many got out?” Clark had mentioned Jason was in at least one picture.

“Umm. There are a few fan ones, that have picked up some steam. Most of those are the two of you talking though. Someone must have called an actual photographer. Those are spreading pretty quickly now. There are about ten pictures of the three of you circulating. Then three more of just you and Clark.”

“Find out who the photographer is.” Jason walked in holding his phone out to him. “I'll call you back.”

He hung up and took the call.

“We have a problem.” Selina chuckled. “Jason's on the cover of the Daily Planet.” Her laughter dropped off.

 

-

 

Bruce walked into the locker room an hour later to people looking at him without actually looking at him. Some of the younger players were staring through their gear as they pulled it on. Once he was dressed for the game, he stepped into the middle of the room, at the top of the logo on the floor, and cleared his throat. 

“I'm sure everyone has seen the photos by now.” He paused and the shift in the room was his answer. “I wanted to address a few questions that the article brought up. I am not cheating on Selina. She and I are separated. The divorce will be finalized in a few days. Clark and I  _ are _ together. There are a few other concerns that I do not feel it is anyone's business to know. I know that this is a shock. I know not all of you will be okay with it. I know there is nothing I can do to change that. However. I am your captain. I will continue to be your captain. If any of you have any questions or concerns please feel free to talk to me. If you don't feel comfortable talking to me,” he paused his throat getting tight at that, “Then talk to Jim.” He took a moment to look around the room at each of his teammates. “Let's go win this game.” 

He stepped out of the way and let the team file out before him. He took a deep breath as the room emptied. He took a final look around the room and saw Dick still sitting in his stall staring at the helmet in his hands. 

“Dick?” he called. He looked back at the door. Dick looked up and then back to the helmet. He saw something wash over Dick before he stood. 

“Thank you,” he said looking him in the eye. Dick slid his helmet on and snapped the clip. “It's nice to know I'm not alone.” He followed Dick out. His eyes locked on the number before him while he tried to process what had just been said. 

He stood at the edge of the ice and looked out over Gotham. He took a deep breath and joined his teammates. There was a roar of noise after his arrival. He kept his eyes on the ice and the pucks on it. Jack skated up to him as he waited with his back to the glass. He could feel the vibrations of someone hammering on it, but he ignored it. 

“I wish you had told me that you were getting divorced.” He looked over to his linemate. They hadn't always gotten along. The first few years of their years together had involved more yelling than talking, but they'd scored goals and eventually they'd stopped yelling. Bruce knew that he should have told him. He should have told the team at least about the divorce. He didn't know why he hadn't and now looking at his friend he didn't know what to tell him. Jack seemed to understand that. He nodded and they cycled in for the drill. 

“You seem less grumpy,” Jack said a few minutes later. “Kent's doing?” He gave a half smile and a shrug. “Do I have to be nice to him now?” 

“Since when are you nice to anyone?” he retorted and skated away. 

 

-

 

Khan slammed into him. Bruce stumbled, but stayed on his feet as he pushed off the boards. The hit had been late, but the refs either didn't see or didn't care. He hoped it was the first. He skated after the play, Dick and Jack were already across the blue line. Dick passed the puck back to him as he crossed into the zone. He didn't hold it for long. They'd been swarming him the whole game. Jack tossed it back to Bane and the man shot it at the goal. Goodness snatched it up with ease. He touched his side as he skated to the face off. He dropped his hand when he saw Jack's eyes on him. His back hurt, but he needed to finish the game. It had hurt worse. 

He lost the face off, Khan shouldering past him easily. He was a giant. The man made everyone look small. He remembered his rookie year Jack had told him that everyone was that big where the indomitable Uxas Khan came from. He'd laughed at the fear on his face. He'd gotten over the fear, but it was beginning to resurface. He chased after the puck. Bane bodily shoved Khan out of the blue paint allowing Basil to knock the puck away. Bruce went for it, Ivy was battling Justeen for space in front of the goal. He knocked it out. Dick streaked back toward the goal. He watched as the kid shot and the puck hit the back of the net. Khan bumped into Bruce as they skated back to the bench for a change. He heard a rumbled insult. Then a high voice defending him. He looked back and Ivy was being held back by Bane as she shouted at the Parademon Captain. 

As they settled on the bench, he looked at Bane who scooted down to make room for him. He'd move in a minute. Ivy let out a heavy breath. She looked over to him. “I'd thought I was done hearing that shit,” she said in a flat voice. “We're professionals, not children.”

“We're still people.”

“People suck,” Ivy muttered. 

He chuckled. “They do.”

“Bane and I have your back,” she said quietly. She looked across to her partner. He nodded in agreement.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. The duo had to go back on the ice and he shifted back down the bench to sit with Dick and Jack. 

 

-

 

He stood in the trainer's room and watched the replay of the Mammoths’ game. With each missed check, or silent moment when there should have been a warning, he felt anger building inside him. He'd been worried about the rest of the world. He'd never thought to be worried about their own teams. He'd looked around at his team like the family they were. Sure, they might not all like each other or agree with each other's decisions, but they had each other's backs. They were there, standing together against everything else. The Knights had won. The Mammoths hadn't. He let himself get tugged down to the massage table and the tv clicked off. He closed his eyes and breathed. 

 

-

 

Clark smiled when he answered the door. He brushed his thumb along the edge of the black eye. Clark's hand closed over his. 

“I'm fine,” he whispered. Bruce nodded and stepped through the door. He looked at Clark, struggling to keep that small smile on his face. He tugged him in and wrapped his arms around him. Clark gripped the back of his shirt tightly and buried his face against the side of his neck. He felt the trembling start and the hitches in his breath. They stood in his entryway as Clark crumbled. 

He had watched Clark answer question after question with a calm smile. When someone in the back of the group or reporters swarmed around his stall had asked how it felt to be a homewrecker Clark's smile had frozen in place and someone from the Mammoths had finally stepped in. He'd decided in that moment that he was going to Metropolis. 

“How is Jason?” Clark asked but didn't move his head from its resting place on his shoulder. 

“He's fine. He actually thought it was pretty cool that he was on the front page.” He chuckled. “How are your parents?” He knew he should wait, but he had to know. 

“They saw. They still love me. Ma wants to know all about you.” He rubbed up and down Clark's back. “Conner texted me a few minutes ago. He was upset that I'm dating a Knight. Asked if I had cooties.” Clark laughed. It was short and dry, but a laugh. He let go as Clark stepped back. “My pie is going to burn.” Clark took his hand and pulled him to the kitchen. 

Clark moved around the kitchen. He checked the pie, then cleaned up the counter. He let him go because he knew he needed to stay busy, even though he could see the day wearing on him. Clark started talking as he dried the dishes in his sink. He told him about what his dad had said. About him not answering the call. About Lois and Jimmy. About the hits he'd taken and how alone he'd felt on the ice. He talked until the pie was ready and sliced on the plate. He looked at the apples oozing out of the shell. Clark mumbled something about it being too hot, but he still stabbed through the crust. 

They were quiet as they ate their slices. Clark shook his head and said softly, “People keep asking me questions that I don't know the answer to. I've always known the answer.” He tugged Clark away from the sink when he went to wash their plates. He pulled him through the apartment to his bedroom. 

He kicked off his shoes and wrapped his arms around Clark. He kissed the back of his neck. “Sleep. I'll be here when you wake up. It'll be okay.” 

 

-

 

Clark wasn't so lost in the morning. He held his hand as he called his parents back after breakfast. He listened to Clark talk about him. He watched the smile grow as his mother asked questions and he answered them, looking at Bruce with those sparks of happiness in his eyes that he'd been missing the night before. Clark squeezed his hand. Then greeted his dad. Clark nodded and closed his eyes tightly. He nodded and said, “Yeah. I know that. I love you too.” Clark laughed. “I'll see what I can do. He's a busy man.” Clark looked at him, smiling wide. “Bye. I'll talk to you later.” 

“They want to meet you,” Clark said. “Ma knew some things about you. One of Conner’s friends is a fan.” 

“Later this summer?” he offered. Clark nodded. He tugged him against him. Clark folded as tightly as he could into his arms. “Selina would like it if you would come to dinner on Sunday.” Clark tilted his head back to look up at him. 

“Do you think that's a good idea?” he asked. 

“She promised she wouldn't poison you.” Clark squawked. “But seriously. She likes you. After we knew Jason was okay, and the pictures of him were off the websites, she asked how you were doing.” 

“If you're sure. Then I'll go.” He kissed the top of Clark's head. “If I die this is your fault though.” 

 

-

 

Dinner with Selina was an adventure. She teased and joked through the first few minutes of the meal. Before diving into rules she had about how Clark was going to treat her son. She'd gone back to teasing after that. Clark looked a little shell-shocked when she pulled out the bowls and started scooping ice cream into them. He took his and nudged Clark who shook himself and took his bowl with a thank you. Clark laughed when Selina brought up Grey's. As soon as she realized he had watched the show she started talking about it. They spent the rest of the night talking about the show and the drama. Clark listening and chiming in when he could. 

 

-

 

He spun his wedding ring on the desk in front of him. A few hours before, he had carried the last box of Selina's things up to her new townhouse downtown. She'd offered her key back- her hand shaking slightly as she held it out to him. He'd closed her fingers around it. They had spent the last half hour of their marriage sitting in her kitchen talking about anything except themselves. The ring fell and he stared at it. The Knights season was over. His marriage had ended. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He put the ring in the jewelry box with his cup rings. 

**BW** : I'm divorced. 

 

-

 

Bruce watched the Mammoths battle for each goal. Every time he saw Clark on the ice he looked like he was going to single-handedly try to drag his team into the next round of playoffs. He could see the disconnect. The team had backed down on shutting Clark out, but they still weren't following him. It didn't help that their first round opponents were the Amazons. They'd lost the first two games, won the first in Metropolis. The third had been close. Arthur had slammed into Clark in the middle of the ice and that turn over had ended in the only goal of the game. Selina had texted him after the game asking if she could text Mera that her husband sucked or if that would make things worse. They'd texted back and forth until Clark called, sounding drained but wanting to vent. 

Selina was at the manor before game five. They had been planning on watching it together when they got a call from Jim. 

 

-

 

**BW:** Sorry I missed your call. I was at the hospital. My son forgot he wasn't in pads or on the ice and dove to stop a puck. Broke his arm and Selina cried about his face for an hour. 

He attached the picture of Jason arm propped up in its cast with a rash from the asphalt covering half of his face. Jason thought he looked bad ass and was ready for ‘all the high fives’. The doctor had looked alarmed and made sure Bruce knew not to let him high five anyone. Jason had frowned as the doctor left and asked him in a doped up voice if he was going to let the doctor ruin his dreams. 

**BW** : I know you won't get this until the end of the game, but good luck. Text me when you're done. 

 

-

 

The doorbell rang. He was dozing, as he watched one of the kitchen shows Clark had talked about. Jason was asleep draped across his lap. When they had gotten home during the first intermission, Jason had wanted to watch the game, but he hadn't even made it to the start of the second period. Bruce carefully slipped out from under him and made sure his arm was supported before padding to the door. 

Clark stood in the doorway in half of his uniform. He hadn't bothered to change pants and had thrown on a Mammoths hoodie. He smelled like the rink and sweat. 

“Did you fly like that?” he asked. 

“I hate you,” Clark said and hugged him. “No more pictures of Jason in the hospital.” 

 

\---

 

Jimmy and Lois practically had to drag Clark off the ice as their playoff series came to an end with them down 1 to 4. It had been a tough five games for everyone. The Atlanteans were pissed no matter what Clark tried to do to make amends- not that he felt that he had to- and they weren't pulling punches for anyone on the team. Kong had taken a particularly brutal hit in the middle of the second that earned him a bloody lip probably his first porcelain veneer. He grinned at Clark when he fell into the stall next to him, the pain medication dulling the loss along with his bloody mouth. 

“Hey!” Kong said too loudly as everyone shuffled back in waiting for Perry to come and hand them their asses. 

Clark looked at him, his hand holding a wad of cause to his bloodied nose taking in the boy's drunken expression. “Hey?” he said back confused. 

“You think Per would let me switch to defense?” he asked stupidly as he gave his smiles to everyone passing them. “Maybe we’d stand a chance next year. I could get better at skating backwards…” his voice dropped off when Grundy came to sit on Clark's other side. 

“I’ll teach you,” Sol grumbled looking regretfully at Clark. “I'm sorry, Cap.” He told him softly and nodded towards where Perry was walking back through the tunnel. “We could have won.” Clark half smiled at him and pat his back, sharing in his regret as Perry settled in the middle of the dressing room. 

“You are all idiots,” he told them, taking his time to glare down everyone who had missed his passes and left Clark for the lions. “Every fucking one of you had a chance to win the Stanley Cup - and you choose to let your prejudice get the better of you. In all my years as a coach I have never been more ashamed. You should have seen the way the Knights played their end of season game. Maybe I should see about trading your sorry asses for a bunch of girls, see if I can't build a better team.”

“I could have told you that,” Lois chimed in but quickly ducked her head when Perry glared her way. 

When there was silence again he continued, “You have one of the best captains in the league. If I could have taken the lot of you off the ice and let him stand alone I would have. He scored three times tonight. Three. Without any help from you. Maybe you should all try dating a man, see if you can step it up over the break- if you come back from it.” He stormed into his office and the team stayed seated in their silence, letting the threat hang in the air. 

Kong looked at him. So did Lois, Jimmy and Sol. A few more eyes drifted his way until everyone was looking at him, begrudgingly or hopefully, waiting for him to take the sting out of it. Clark was tired. He was tired and hurting and embarrassed of the team he had gone out on the ice with, but they didn't need to hear that. Perry had told them. Now he needed to lead them. He pulled the gauze away from his face. 

“I am coming back next season,” he said simply. “I still have two years on my contract. And if it's not bought out, I'm coming back as a gay man with a boyfriend. And I don't really care if you accept that or not. You don't have to like me, but if you are on this team, you need to learn how to work with me.” He stood up and pulled his bag out of his stall, “Maybe you are asking what you did to be stuck with me as a Captain. I sure as hell want to know what I did to deserve this team turning their back on me after all the times I have supported you. But you  _ are _ stuck with me. Take this break to learn how to live with that. Think about how we could have gone to the next round if you'd done it sooner.” 

He focused on his bag as he listened to the sound of the team getting changed, quiet conversations starting to pop up. He pulled out his phone as he slipped his jersey off and stripped out of his pads sliding it open to three new messages from Bruce. His heart clenched at the image of Jason with his arm stuck up, stupid doped up smile on his face that made his eyes close. Clark was exhausted. His body was aching and his heart hurt. He wanted to be home. And not at his apartment. 

Clark slipped a hoodie on over his bare chest and threw his skates into his bag. He dug out his sneakers and slipped them on before he pulled his bag onto his shoulder. “Aren't you going to shower?” Lois asked where she was still unpacking her skates. 

He hesitated for a cover before he realised he didn't have to anymore. “I'm going to Gotham. Jason took a bad fall and broke his arm.” 

Lois beamed at him and nodded. “Be safe,” she told him, and he ignored the way she implied it.

 

-

 

He got a lot of weird looks on the plane but managed to ignore the whispers around him. He was fortunate enough to have gotten a pretty empty flight so at least no one complained about how much he reeked from the game. His cab driver was less gracious. He kept the divider up the entire drive and double charged him but Clark didn't really care. He marched up the manor steps with only his hoodie and his phone and waited as Bruce walked to the front door, barefoot and looking as tired as he did. Bruce blinked at him, taking in his appearance, “Did you fly here like that?” he asked. 

Clark rolled his eyes and hugged him. “I hate you,” he told him instead of telling him that loved him on accident. “No more pictures of Jason in the hospital.” Clark poked him weakly in the chest as he stepped away from him. “Where is he?” 

Bruce blinked at him again almost like he couldn't believe he was there. He pointed to the den and Clark headed that way stopping in the doorway when he could see Jason's arm sticking up from the couch. It was hard not to laugh when he saw how ridiculous he looked in person, but also every part of him wanted to punch the ground that hurt the poor kid until it broke. He walked around to the front of the couch, covering his mouth to keep the laugh in as he took in the full drooling picture. “Did they have to set his arm like that?” he asked Bruce who was grinning at Clark's reaction from the doorway. What a sight it must have been with Clark still half in his game gear and Jason making an ocean on his pillow. 

“Apparently, yes,” Bruce told him crossing his arms. “Should probably get him into bed. He's been passed out for a while.” He moved to grab him but Clark held up a hand. 

“I've got him.” He knew Bruce had  tweaked his back in his last game and didn't want him throwing it out. 

He got a good hold on the kid and lifted him off the couch, stirring him just enough for Jason to hold onto his hoodie with his good hand as he followed Bruce up the stairs to Jason's room. The boy didn't return until he was tucking him into bed and he cracked his eyes open, a goofy grin covered his face. “Clark?” he asked groggily. 

He ran a hand through the mess of his hair. “Hey kiddo.” 

“Am I dreaming? You have clothes on,” Jason asked looking around for his dad who was now standing red-faced at the foot of the bed. 

Clark cleared his throat. “No, it's me bud.”

“For real?” 

“For real.” 

He smiled wider and closed his eyes again as he said, “Yaaaaaaaaay,” under his breath. A moment later he was snoring. 

Bruce wasn't looking at him when Clark followed him out of the room and down the hallway to his bedroom. He waited until the door was completely shut before he started laughing at his boyfriend's mortification. 

“That was adorable,” Clark told him, “I must have some magic power that works only on Wayne men.” He smirked as he pulled Bruce in at his waist. 

“I'm gonna remind you that you said that when you meet my father,” Bruce grumbled but pulled down by the strings of his hoodie to kiss him. “You're here,” he said when he pulled away like he just realised something. “The game?” 

“We lost,” Clark muttered into his mouth but Bruce pulled away from him looking a mix between sad and furious. 

“You should talk to your agent about your contract. If it's optioned someone will pick you up instantly. You are one of the best players in the league right now, maybe the Knights-" 

Clark shook his head. “I'm their Captain babe. I can't leave.” Bruce dropped his eyes and Clark pulled his chin back up. “I think they learned something from this loss. If things are still bad we can talk about it next season, okay?” 

Bruce's eyes sparked at that and he swallowed before covering his face and saying, ‘You need a shower.”

“Come with me?” 

Bruce lead him to the shower and watched from the counter as Clark pulled the hoodie over his head. His eyes dropped down Clark's chest and he motioned him forward with a finger until he was close enough for Bruce to grab him. He worked off the buttons of Bruce’s shirt as he pulled on the lace of his uniform pants and shoved them down with his feet.  Clark stepped out of them, making quick work of Bruce’s jeans before he pulled him off the counter and carried him into the massive shower with his hands clutched tight onto his ass. He swallowed the yelp that came out of Bruce when the water turned on cold, growing steady warmer as Bruce slid down his body and his feet met the stone floor. They kissed until the water was hot and then Bruce pushed him away, making it his personal mission to make sure every inch of Clark was squeaky clean. 

By the time he was done with him, Clark was completely spent and Bruce was swatting away his grabby hands as he climbed into bed next to him. “Go to bed,” Bruce laughed. “You've been on the go for nine hours and beat to shit for three. You won't last five minutes.”

“Wanna bet?” he hummed at him but his eyes were already dropping. 

“Sleep,” Bruce told him again. 

Clark sighed and turned into him, pulling so that they curled together perfectly, his face buried in Bruce's shoulders. “Okay. I love you,” he mumbled and let the exhaustion take over. 

 

-

 

He wasn't surprised to the first one up the next morning. He wasn't surprised when he was the first one up all week. Apparently Jason took after his dad because they rolled into the kitchen around ten every morning looking like they could sleep for the next five days. But Clark didn't mind. He liked having breakfast ready and on the table when they got there. He liked how baffled they always seemed, like they couldn't fathom doing this every day. But we wanted to. He wanted to be here every day to make breakfast and fold laundry and watch Jason fall asleep on his dad while he was reading on the couch. His mom had always told Clark that he would know when he found the right person that he'd know they were it. That he would want to take care of them and everything important to them would become important to him as well. He just never knew how fast it would happen. How much he could love someone else’s kid. How much he could love someone in general. 

So he told him. Scattering it through a few days at first so that he wouldn't panic. He would tell Bruce he loved him when he left for the gym or when he got out of the shower. When he smiled up at him or pointed out bad grammar in the morning paper. He would bite it into his shoulder when they were in bed and rub it into his back when his injury flared up, so that when he said it, Bruce would already know.   

He didn't say it back, but Clark didn't worry about it. And after the first week of being in Gotham, it felt normal. 

At the start of the second week he woke up to a vase of lavender roses on the nightstand and a little note propped at the base like a place setting card.

_ Had to take Jay to a doctor's appointment. Be home for breakfast. - _ **_B_ **

He took a quick shower and slipped into one of the three pairs of jeans he bought his first day in Gotham and one of Bruce’s shirts before he made his way down to the kitchen. He took the place card with him, running his thumb across the imprint of Bruce’s handwriting as he walked. There was another vase of roses on the kitchen counter, a second folded note at its base. 

_ French toast please. Don't even think about bacon. _

He grinned and rolled his eyes. He was bossy even in his notes. He drank a cup of coffee and went through the paper before he got up to start cooking. There were still gossip columns about them that he was sure wouldn't die down any time soon but he didn't mind anymore. Most of the team had sent him apologies after the first week of their break. He knew that some of them wouldn't come around but it still felt good to know he wasn’t entirely hated. He was whipping together the batter when Jason and Bruce got back. He was surprised to see Selina walking in behind them looking like a million bucks in yoga pants. 

He grinned when Jason came running in to show him his new cast that was bright red and no longer sticking straight up. “No more high fives?” he asked in fake disappointment. 

“Nope!” Jason popped the p and put on a face that Clark had come to learn was what he did when he wanted to seem cool. “But this one is better cause the doctor said that people can sign it,” he cleared his throat and flushed. “You know if they want to.” 

He looked up at Bruce, “Well, I have to be the first.” He told him like there was no way around it. “But I might need some help with this toast first.” 

Jason grinned and quickly clamped it down. “I can do that,” he said smoothly and went to pull a pan out of the pantry. 

Bruce looked dead on his feet, kissing Clark on the cheek like he was about to fall into him. “Coffee?” he begged. 

Clark nodded and nudged him to sit down at the table. “Coffee Selina?” he asked. She didn't say anything so he looked up from the batter. She was staring at the vase of roses that was still in the counter. “Selina?” he asked again. She snapped up and blinked at Clark. He nodded to the coffee pot. 

“Oh, yes thank you,” she muttered joining Bruce at the table. He brought them coffee and finished up the French toast with Jason who was convinced that he could flip every piece of toast up to the ceiling. Fortunately they managed to save enough of them for breakfast. After, Clark sat with Bruce and Selina while Jason ran out of the kitchen to go find a sharpie. 

“Beautiful roses,” Selina commented when the doors shut. “New strand, Bruce?”

Bruce cleared his throat and avoided Clark’s eyes as he got up and cleared the table, knocking her chair as he went. 

Selina smirked at him as he passed behind Clark. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at the bouquet sitting on the counter. He'd spent most of the night before picking each bloom carefully off the bush and arranging them into the vases. He remembered how distraught his mother had been when he was younger and  she'd come home to all of the blooms in their garden missing. They'd nearly filled Selina's room when he'd finished. 

Jason yelped and he stepped out to check on him, waving Selina back into her seat. Jason was pushing himself to his feet as he stepped out. 

“You keep making him happy, okay?” Selina said. He stopped outside the doorway. His heart aching at her words. He didn't hear Clark's response, if he gave anything more than a nod. Selina hummed and stood. “Ask him what Lavender means. I'm going to take Jason to see a movie.” He looked over as Selina stepped out of the kitchen. She looked up at him and smiled. “Limiting yourself to just two bouquets this time. I'm impressed.” She nudged him toward the door and caught Jason before he ran past her. “We're going to be late. Clark will be here when you get home,” she told him. He watched them head for the garage before stepping back in. 

Clark was smiling and looking at the roses. He looked up as he stepped closer. 

“I'm supposed to ask you what the color means,” Clark said a hint of amusement in his eyes. He stepped in and touched one of the petals. “The thing is, I already know.” His eyes shot up to Clark's in surprise. “I looked it up when I got home from the show.” Clark was still smiling at him. 

“I love you,” he said. He'd said it when he bought the bush. He'd said it with each spray of water and muddy knees. He'd said it with each snip of the shears. These were the first blooms. There would be more. More plants and more ways that he loved Clark. 

He smiled the same smile he had the first time he told Bruce he was beautiful as he pull him in closer. “I know. But you can say it again if you want.” 

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

“Ma, for the last time, I know,” Clark sighed into his phone as he pulled into the driveway of the manor- which was basically a private road. He and Bruce had had a long argument about what warranted a driveway or a road, but we was pretty sure they got distracted before it ended because of the fuzzy heat that rode up his neck. Even over a year later he still got flustered when he thought of Bruce under or over him. 

“Are you sure?” She asked again, worry clear in her voice. “I can fly with him and come straight back.” It was tempting for him to tell her to do that. He hadn't seen his mom since last summer. But the time had been short and spent with him worrying over what his parents would think of his boyfriend. It had gone over well. Really well. Better than Con's trip would be if his mom flew with him to hand him off. 

“Con’ll be fine Ma. Let him feel a little grown up. It'll be good for him,” he promised, throwing his truck into park in the middle of the circled drive. “I already called the Gotham airport and they assured me that I could get through security and meet him at the gate. I'll send you a picture when he gets here. It'll be fine, Ma,” he told her. Again. “I promise. But you might want to enjoy your time with him in case you never see him again.”

“Clark!” 

“Sorry!” he laughed and turned off the truck. “I couldn't help it. But I have to go, I just got here.”

“Alright baby, you tell Bruce hello from me and your Pa. Give our love!” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

He climbed out of the truck and pulled his luggage out of the bed. He had two big bags for his stay in Gotham and a small one that he'd packed for their trip. A week in California with the kids in their life had seemed horrifying when Bruce first suggested it. An entire week where they were solely responsible for young lives-- but Bruce was cool as a cucumber. He had to remind himself that Bruce was a dad and had been at this for a long time. It was only natural that he wouldn't be worried. Clark still had his doubts, but he didn't think that things could really go that badly. 

Jason hadn't been exactly thrilled at the idea of a family vacation. He had met Clark's little brother Conner the summer before and the two of them hadn't exactly hit it off. Plus, he wasn't exactly warm with Clark at the moment either. Jason was going through a phase where everything that his dad did was the lamest thing ever- thus making Clark the lamest of all. But he was pushing through it, sticking to Bruce and Selina's advice to just take it slow and be there when Jason needed him. But even as they told him to back off, they kept setting up little ways to force them on eachother. 

He pulled his bags up the front steps and pulled out the spare key that Bruce had given him at the start of the season. He let himself in and checked his watch knowing that he needed to get a move on if they were going to get back by the time Bruce got done with his PR meeting. He'd told Clark that Jason still needed a swim suit for the trip and Clark figured he'd make sure he had a nice sweater too for when they got to San Francisco. 

“Jay?” he called through the empty entryway. There was no response but Clark wasn't surprised. Half the time Jason had his music blaring loud enough that they could hear it in the den and Clark doubted he had even heard him come in. He sighed and pulled his bags with him through the ornate space to the stairs. It had freaked him out at first, how large everything was. There were still places of the manor that he hadn't seen and he had gotten lost on the way the bathroom more than a few times. He was mostly used to it now, though he still sometimes felt like he was in a museum- something Selina delighted in. And slowly, but surely, he was getting Bruce to integrate more of his own style into it instead of keeping up what his parents had left him. 

He smiled at the large still life of a bundle of bananas that Clark had bought him at an estate sale on a drive one day. Bruce had been so confused when he answered the door to the painting, but lit up when Clark had beamed at him from behind it. He walked down the long hall and past the door that had Jason's music playing through it to deposit his bags by Bruce’s room. 

“Jay, bud,” he said walking back to his end of the hall, “we’ve gotta get going if-"

“Fuck!” 

The hiss from Jason's doorway had him running the last few feet to the door that he threw open in concern. 

“Jay, are you-" he clamped both of his hands over his eyes. The vision of his boyfriend’s son's mouth wrapped around a sizeable dick burned into his eyelids forever. “What the heck?” he choked stumbling to find the door blindly. 

“Clark what-- fucking knock!” Jason stuttered and a pillow hit the back of his knee as he finally stumbled back into the hallway and slammed the door behind him. He heard scrambling behind the door and the music cut off. 

He was way over his head and felt a boil growing in his chest as he waited against the wall opposite the door. Jason slumped out of the smallest crack he could manage, his face beat red and eyes focused on Clark's shoes. They both watched each other's feet in silence. Embarrassment filled the space between them until finally Jason said, “You're early.”

Clark ran a hand over his face and managed to look at the kid who was sweating bullets in front of him. “Your parents asked me to take you shopping.”

“Oh,” Jason breathed. 

“Yeah.” Clark crossed his arms and pushed himself off the wall so he was standing straight. “So that's…” he pointed to the room. 

“Roy,” Jason nodded. Clark had heard about him but had yet to actually meet him.

“And you’re..?”Jason swallowed again and nodded, looking anywhere but actually at Clark. “For how long?” Clark asked him, hating how much he sounded like he father right then. 

“You're not gonna… like, tell my dad right?” He asked.

“Of course I'm going to tell your dad.” Clark answered, baffled. How could he not? “If you are… if you're having sex, then you need to be able to have these conversations with someone. You are just so young, Jay-" 

“Oh my god,” Jason groaned crossing his arms at him. “I'm almost seventeen, I'm not some little kid!”

“Well you sure aren't an adult!” Clark shot back at him. “You aren't old enough to be smart the way that you need to be smart when you are doing this… this stuff. I mean God, Jay, are you even using protection?” 

“Dude, gross!” Jason groaned and the door creaked open again to a very embarrassed redhead in a plain black cap. 

“I… um… sir,” he nodded so hard at Clark that he almost bowed. “I'm just going to, uh, go.” Roy coughed hooking his thumb towards the end of the hall and his escape. 

“I'll go with you,” Jason grumbled and turned to follow him when Clark grabbed his arm. 

“No, you won't,” Clark told him sternly. Jason ripped his arm away from him. But didn't keep following Roy who kept walking. 

“You know, just because you're fucking my dad, doesn't mean you are him,” Jason snapped. 

Clark had to count to ten before he guided the kid back in his room and locked the door. “That doesn't matter,” he told him. “When your parents aren't here, then I get to decide what's best. And until you talk to your father about what's been going on then you aren't going anywhere.” 

Jason glared at him, the kind of look you can only get from someone who truly wished to see you dead as he waited to see if Clark's resolve would break. It didn't. And when they heard the front door shut as Roy left Jason finally growled, “This is bullshit. I'm calling my mom,” and shut himself back in his room. 

\---

He stared at the man across the table from him and repeated his latest mantra of do not punch him. He'd been dealing with the smug smile directed at him for the entire season. There had been talks during the last off-season of finding a new Public Relations Director. One that didn't brush off major news about one of the team's players. But the man still had his job. He also seemed to enjoy talking through each rumor and negative comment that was made about him and Clark. He criticized each interview that Bruce did with the press. He had made it his mission to make Bruce's life as difficult as possible. The only plus side was that he was ‘too busy’ to go over his complaints with Bruce himself. Instead he let Jillian tell him. 

She smiled when the meeting ended and they walked together out to the cars. 

“You said Clark,” she told him. He loosened his tie. “That was it. Make sure he's Kent when you're giving interviews.” 

“It was an exit interview. I was asked what my off-season plans were.” He yanked the tie off. 

“I know that. The reporters know that. Everyone knows that. Gary just doesn't care. Now get out of here. And tell Clark hello for me.” She waved and headed back inside. 

He turned on his phone as he got in the car. He had two missed calls from Clark and a text from Selina telling him to ‘Talk to his son.’ Selina was on set for the rest of the week finishing up her latest project. Jason knew that. It must have been important if he was calling her. 

He dialed Jason as he backed out of the spot. 

“Dad?” Jason's voice was quiet, like he was trying not to be overheard. 

“Hey buddy. Your mom said you wanted to talk to me?” 

“When are you getting home?” His voice sounded strange. He couldn't pinpoint what exactly was so different about it, but he knew something was wrong. 

“I'm just leaving the offices. I'm picking up dinner then I'll be home. Why? Is something wrong?” Clark would have sent him a text if the calls were important. 

“Clark's being an ass,” Jason blurted. 

“Jason,” he admonished. He held back the sigh building in his chest. It had been a long few months. It was like all of the hero worship shine Jason had given Clark had worn off all at once and Jason suddenly couldn't stand him. He hadn't yet been rude to Clark's face, but he knew the day was coming. The change had been so sudden that Bruce was struggling to find a solution that was more than a metaphorical slap on the nose with a newspaper. He'd been impressed with how well Clark was handling the attitude Jason kept sending his way. Or the silent treatment that came just as often. 

“He is. He yelled at me and wouldn't let me hang out with Roy,” Jason's voice was wobbling between angry and upset. He felt a little ember of anger flaring in his chest at the hurt sound of his son's voice. 

“Hey. Hey. Calm down. I'll be home in a little bit. We'll talk then okay?” Jason made a noise of agreement. “Love you.” 

“Y-yeah,” Jason stuttered. 

He took a deep breath as the call ended. Then called Clark. 

“Hey,” Clark offered before the first ring had even ended. He knew the man well enough to know that he was waiting for the call. 

“Did something happen with Jason?” He asked. 

“Yes. I came to pick him up, like you asked. I walked in on him and Roy doing… with his… they were, uh, doing adult things.”

“He left that out,” he replied flatly. 

“He didn't want me to tell you. Then he tried leaving with Roy.” 

“And you didn't let him.” He scoffed and shook his head. His idiot of a son was getting too good at lying to him. He'd played him and Selina off each other earlier in the year and was doing it again. 

“No. I didn't think it was a good idea.” Clark sounded unsure. He knew that Clark was careful with how he talked to Jason. Selina had insisted after all. So, he should have known Jason wasn't telling him the whole story. 

“It wasn't. That's... His story makes sense now.” He sighed and turned into the drive thru. 

“What did he say?” Clark asked. He had gotten a little more sure of his words. He wondered how long Clark had been worrying about the situation. His first call had been not long after the meeting started. 

“He told me you yelled at him and wouldn't let him hang out with Roy.”

“I was surprised. I might have been louder than I meant to be, but I didn't yell at him.”

“I know,” he agreed. “I'll talk to him when I get home.” 

Clark agreed and he mumbled an I love you, before they hung up. That had become a habit. Every phone call ended with those three words. Most nights, if they hadn't been able to talk there would be a text sitting in his inbox or he'd send one as he got ready for bed. He had thought that being so far away from each other during the beginning of their relationship had been difficult. It had nothing on this last season. He'd been looking forward to having Clark in Gotham for the whole summer. He hadn't wanted it to start it like this. He dropped the food on the kitchen counter as he walked in the garage door. Clark leaned against the counter as he unpacked the bags. 

“Are you mad at me?” Clark asked and leaned into him for a moment. 

“No. I admit, I was irritated when I first called. I believed him.” Clark nodded. He looked over to him and wanted to apologize for putting that look on his face, but Jason came first. Clark knew that. He knew that if it came down to choosing between the two of them it wasn't a choice. He put his hand over Clark's and met his eyes before kissing him softly. “Where is the monster?” 

“Oh he locked himself in his room as soon as Roy left,” Clark told him with a lopsided smile on his face. He grabbed Jason's food and headed upstairs. 

“Hey,” he offered as he opened the door. Jason looked up at him and his eyes dropped quickly. He set the food down at the foot of his bed and sat down next to it. 

“You talked to Clark,” Jason said. He could hear the irritated bravado he was forcing into his words.

“I did,” he agreed with a nod. “I don't appreciate you lying to me.” 

“Dad-” 

“We're going to talk about you having sex.” 

“Dad!” 

“Was he mistaken? Did Clark see something else?” Jason stared at him. He knew that he was considering lying again, but he saw the moment that he decided not to and the anger flickering in his eyes after it. He felt his own boil over and he snapped, “You're grounded until the trip.” 

“I don't even want to go on the stupid trip. I want to stay with Mom.” 

“You'll be grounded there too,” he warned. 

“At least I won't be around you,” Jason snapped and glared at him for a moment before turning away and staring at the poster of Clark on his wall. Bruce knew it was only a phase because the posters and signed gear were still holding their honored spots in his room. 

“I'll talk with your mother.”

“Whatever. I'm not going.” 

-

Selina picked up Jason half an hour before they needed to leave to pick up Conner from the airport. Jason hadn't left his room since their argument except to angrily demand food. Selina had watched Jason with an amused smile as he jerkily moved past them to her car and him folded himself into the passenger seat as low as he could go.

“Oh man is he embarrassed.” 

“I tried talking to him about it. I should have done it before grounding him.” He had felt like an idiot when he'd shut the door after their first talk and hadn't talked to Jason about the actual issue. 

“I'll take it from here. You leave tomorrow?” 

“Yeah. Clark wanted to give Conner a day to rest before we flew out again. It was supposed to let him and Jay get to know each other better.” He looked to where he could see the top of Jason's head. 

“I'll try my best to get him to change his mind.” Selina kissed his cheek as she headed back to the car. “Tell Clark to stop looking like a kicked puppy,” she called and nodded to the kitchen window where Clark was standing watching them. He waved and headed inside. 

“Selina says you belong in the pound,” he offered as he walked in. Clark had turned, but was still leaning against the counter. He got a twitch of a smile. 

“Do you want to head to the airport early?” Clark didn't answer for a moment. Then he shook his head and looked up at him. 

“Yeah. We probably should. It'd be awful if his flight got in early.” 

“I can't believe he's flying by himself. I was sure your mom would have vetoed that idea.” 

“I think how excited he is about flying alone is what has stopped her from changing her mind. He's been going on about it for the last few days.” Clark was smiling for real as he talked about his brother. He wasn't sure what exactly had changed, but since that trip they took to Smallville last August, Clark had been reaching out to his family more and more. That wasn't to say they hadn't been close before, but the weekly calls to his mom lasted longer and longer. He actually texted Conner. Which he knew was a huge step since Clark still answered most of Bruce's texts with a phone call. He knew that mostly Conner just talked about hockey or the farm, but Clark had told him that he hoped this trip would help them get rid of the strange distance that sat between them. 

Clark looked like a bundle of nerves as they walked through the airport. He held onto his hand and tried to send some calm thoughts his way. 

The woman at the security stand like she wanted to do anything but let Clark through, but she was so enamored by Bruce’s charm that she let it slide. He knew that he was being stupid. Conner was his little brother, not some stranger's kid that he had never met before. But even then, Clark couldn't remember the last time he had actually been left alone with his brother. He had already been drafted to the Mammoths when Conner was born and it wasn't exactly easy to bond with a baby via Skype. He’d spent the first part of his life afraid that he would break him, and the next part so busy that each visit felt too short. Then when he was with Diana, they were always on the go, in a new city on the other side of the world whenever possible. 

Clark didn't regret traveling. He met people and saw things that he hadn't ever thought possible coming from a small town- but with that came a guilt. The guilt of missing holidays with his family, of not seeing his little brother grow up. He knew that his parents didn't blame him, but there was always this feeling. This distance between him and Conner. Something that he had been working to mend over the past year. But he never imagined that it would end up going well enough for them to be here now, and Clark was convinced that the other shoe would drop any minute now that everything had been derailed. 

“Relax,” Bruce muttered into his shoulder when the sign above the gate changed to arrived. He kissed Clark's shoulder and squeezed his hand. “He’s fine. He's been dying to see you since Christmas.”

Clark swallowed. “That was a long time ago,” he told Bruce under his breath. 

He scoffed. “That was five months ago.”

Clark made a face, looking over at him. “Five months is all it took for Jason to decide I wasn't cool anymore.” He shrugged it off like it didn't bother him. It did, of course it did, but that wasn't the point. “Maybe Con will be tired of me too.” 

Bruce squeezed his hand again but he didn't have a chance to say anything before the gate opened up. A couple of elderly passengers made their way out, followed quickly by a small kid with messy black hair and bright blue eyes and the ghost of a grin on his face. It surged back to life when he found Clark and Bruce beyond the chair line. He ran at them, his overstuffed backpack bouncing awkwardly on his shoulders as he went. Conner collided hard with his legs and Clark laughed, relief hitting him as soon as Con did. He grabbed him off the ground and hugged him hard. 

“Hey kiddo!” He grinned at him, setting him back on his feet. Con’s Mammoths cap slipped off and Clark laughed, shuffling the undercut. “What did you do to your hair?” 

Conner made a face and pulled his hat back on, “Ma made me do it,” he told him, rolling his eyes. “She said it’d make me look all handsome. Like a real city boy.” 

“She was right,” Bruce told him, smiling in a warm way that was mostly reserved for the children in his life. “It looks great,” he told Conner and squeezed his shoulder. 

The boy lit up, eyes shining as he took in Bruce. “T-thank you, sir!” he squeaked at him. 

“Conner, what did I tell you last summer?” Bruce asked with a stern raise of his eyebrow. 

“Thank you...Bruce.”

Bruce grabbed his backpack from him and smirked at Clark. “Better,” he told him before passing him off to his brother. “Are you hungry?” 

He was. They ate at one of the restaurants in the terminal and listened to Conner tell them all about the hockey team he had been playing on for the past couple of years. He talked about the shots he needed to work on and asked Bruce why he would want to play for Gotham when the Mammoths were so close by. He told them about his friends on the way out to the car and hesitated when he mentioned the one that lived in Gotham. 

“Hey, Clark?” He hummed as he tossed his bag into the back of the truck. Conner kicked at the tire staring at his feet. “Bruce said Jason wasn’t gonna be home today, and I was wonderin’ if I could maybe stay over at Tim’s?” He looked so nervous and hopeful. It was the first time Clark wondered if maybe his little brother was as nervous as he was. Bruce was watching him from the other side of the truck with a tiny smile playing at the corner of his mouth. 

“I, yeah.” He nodded easily. “Wanna give ‘im a call, make sure it's okay with his parents?” 

The call was finished before they even pulled out of the parking garage and Conner was practically buzzing in the back seat. Bruce cycled through a few stations but they were all playing the same song and Conner groaned in the back seat. “Not this,” he begged. 

Bruce frowned at him. “You don't like this? I thought this was the new thing.” 

“It's an old thing,” Conner argued. “He basically stole the entire tune from Dion.” 

“Dion?” Conner made another noise of disgust and Clark laughed. 

“Claaaark,” he whined. “You need to educate your boyfriend.”

Clark grinned at the frightened look on Bruce’s face and winked into the rearview mirror. “You got it boss,” he told Conner and put on Runaround Sue.

-

He dragged Conner's bag into the entryway after they dropped him off at Tim’s and left it by the door. They would be leaving tomorrow afternoon anyway and it was one less thing to bring downstairs. He cracked his neck and let Bruce pull him down the hall to the den. 

“You have an accent,” Bruce told him when Clark pressed him into the wall. “When you are with your family it comes out.” 

Clark smiled into his mouth. “Don't tell that to Perry. He's been trying beat it out of me for years.” He bit at Bruce’s lip. He groaned making Clark press his leg further between his. 

Bruce chuckled but it turned into a gasp when Clark’s mouth moved down to his neck. “I like it,” he breathed barely keeping his voice from shaking. Clark stood back and pulled his shirt over his head in response. 

-

They spent most of the next morning in bed before he had to force himself up to go collect Connor. The drive wasn't even five minutes away. He shuffled his feet as he waited for the door to open and when it did there was a mop-haired kid standing in front of him beaming. The smile fell off his face when he saw who was looking down at him though and he blinked looking almost afraid. 

“Um, hey,” he smiled trying not to scare him more, but it didn't look like it was working. “You're… Tim, right?” he asked. 

The boy blinked at him. He blinked at him a few times. And then, instead of answering he looked over his shoulder and shouted, “Con!” leaving the door open as he ran back into the house. 

Clark stood there confused, unsure if he should wait there or step inside when a friendly-faced woman stepped in. 

“You must be Clark,” she said warmly and offered her hand to him. “I’m Edith. Sorry about Tim, you are a bit of a legend in our household,” she explained as the boys came running back. 

“Clark!” Con yelled even though he was right in front of him. “Can Tim come over and see the ice skating rink?” 

Clark laughed and shook his head with a little wrinkle of his nose. “Sorry bud, but we need to get going. Our flight’s in a few hours. Maybe when we get back?” he offered and Tim’s eyes lit up as he grinned bashfully before he nodded at him. Clark looked up at Edith, “Thanks for watching him.” He nodded to her and let Con jump onto his back to carry him out to the truck. 

\---

He was recognized at the airport. It had been a while since fans had approached him. He'd played for so long that there were lists of interactions people had had with him. ‘I saw Bruce Wayne at the grocery store. He asked me if he should get Lucky Charms or Life.’ ‘I spilled my slushie on Bruce Wayne at the gas station and he bought me another one.’ ‘My son and all of his friends came home from the park with Bruce Wayne's signature.’ ‘I saw him at Home Depot buying fertilizer. He was giving advice to one of the employees on how to care for the plants.’ He didn't remember most of them, but reading the lists had always been amusing. Normally someone would start a new ‘Tell us your story’ when he hit a milestone. 

The fans were polite and kept their distance. He could see the moment they recognized Clark and the moment of hesitation before they shoved their pens at him too. One, who looked to be the father of the twins yelling in excitement, asked about Conner. 

“Oh this is my brother,” Clark said with a hand on Conner’s shoulder. Conner waved, but was tucked tightly against Clark's leg. The man waved back and ushered his boys away once they’d gotten their signatures, telling them to have a good summer. He picked up his bag and watched as the pair started back to their gate. Conner had a fistful of Clark's shirt in his hand. A plane had landed and he was starting to look overwhelmed at the amount of people. Bruce tapped his shoulder. 

“Do you want a piggyback ride?” Conner looked up at him all wide eyed and nodded. He kneeled and let him climb onto his back. Clark looked worried, but he waved him off. His back had been pain-free lately. They walked the rest of the way to their gate like that. 

The flight attendant called Conner his son when they walked up. Conner giggled. “He's my brother's boyfriend,” he told her. 

“I'm the brother,” Clark chimed in when her face twisted in confusion. She looked up at Conner who was grinning with his chin propped on his shoulder. Then looked at their tickets. Conner slid down his back and grabbed his arm dragging him down the entrance ramp. 

“I want the window seat,” Conner declared. Bruce looked back at Clark as he let himself get dragged. Clark was hiding a smile. 

He listened to Conner tell him about his first flight for a second time as the plane filled. Clark helped people get their bags into the overhead bin every few minutes. 

“Are we all good?” he asked when Clark sat down and buckled his seat belt. Clark rolled his eyes at him. 

Clark passed out before they'd even reached cruising altitude. Conner was quiet and gripped his hand tightly as the plane shook on take off. It reminded him of Jason's first flight. Jason had been maybe 4 at the time. He'd held onto his thumb and stared out the window. Conner was looking anywhere but the window as they rose. Once they leveled off his eyes drifted back. 

They talked for most of the flight. Conner took it upon himself to school him in the best music ever made when they crossed the halfway point. Clark woke up to them sharing earphones while Conner was telling him about Jose Jose and the other Mexican singers he'd found at a yard sale his mom had taken him to. 

“He talking your ear off?” Clark asked quietly. 

“He's teaching me. You're a terrible boyfriend for not teaching me already,” he answered swiftly. Clark leaned over and poked Conner.

“It's true,” Conner said and stuck his tongue out. 

Conner’s energy dropped off as they started their descent into San Francisco. He dozed off against his shoulder, still singing along to whatever song he was listening to. He sleepily followed Clark off the plane and through the airport and slept through the entire drive down to Monterrey. 

Clark carried him in from the car when he wouldn't wake up. The woman at the desk cooed over them. He looked back and couldn't really blame her. Conner had woken up enough to rub his eyes and yawn as Clark talked to him. She handed over the keys and directed them to the elevator. 

He keyed in and pushed open the door. This was not the room they'd booked. He looked at the small room and the two beds as Conner pushed past him. He remembered booking a suite, because he knew that he'd want privacy from the kids, time with Clark. He looked back to Clark who was dragging in their suitcases. 

“We have a problem,” he mumbled. 

“It's okay. Clark can sleep with me,” Conner said leaping onto the bed. He starfished out and grinned up at them. 

“We can say something tomorrow. I'm beat.” Clark pushed their luggage into the corner and joined his brother on the bed. He sighed. 

“Don't fall asleep. We should get something to eat.”

“We should take a nap. Then go eat.” He frowned at Clark who turned to his brother. 

“Please Bruce? Can we take a nap?” Conner asked pouting up at him. He sighed. 

“Fine.” He crawled into his bed after kicking his shoes off. Clark was grinning at him from across the gap in their beds. 

They planned to eat at the little cabana style restaurant on the beach, but sometime during their nap it had started to rain. He stared out into the downpour and wondered if someone was purposely messing with their vacation. Conner and Clark didn't seem to care about the rain. He watched as Conner dragged Clark out from under the overhang so they could jump in the puddles. He didn't think he'd ever seen Clark so carefree as he kicked water up at his little brother. 

After a while his dad brain started warning him about the likelihood of them getting sick and he dragged the Kent boys from their soaked dance floor and back inside. 

When they got back to their room Clark ordered room service. Clark made Conner take a shower while they waited. He pushed Clark away with a laugh when he tried kissing him, he was still soaking wet even after quickly toweling off. 

Conner came out a few minutes later with a towel piled on his head and the robe the hotel had provided tied tightly around his waist. Clark teased him and Conner pulled the towel off his head and tried whipping it at him. It didn't work very well, but Clark was able to catch the towel and chased Conner around the room with it. He fought his way through the battleground to answer the room service call. As soon as he rolled the cart in Conner scrambled to sit on the edge of the bed. 

Conner set up Bruce's phone on the speaker they'd brought for the beach. He was letting him ‘review’ what he'd learned earlier. They ate and Conner’s yawns grew bigger and bigger though he fought each one. 

“Brush your teeth and get ready for bed. I'm going to call Ma,” Clark told him before stepping into the hallway to look for service. 

The song changed and he heard a noise come from the bathroom before Conner tore into the room. He shouted something that vaguely sounded like ‘I love this song’ through the toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. As Elvis filled the room Conner jumped onto the bed and strummed an imaginary guitar to the beat of the song. He laughed as the boy sang along. He hummed to himself. Clark walked back in and an argument that had clearly happened before started up. It began with Clark criticizing his brother's dancing skills, then his parents for not teaching Con properly while Clark taught Con the correct way to roll his hips. Then it devolved into which Elvis song was the best. Conner shrieked Heartbreak Hotel as Clark insisted All Shook Up was the superior song. As one they turned to him and asked him which was his favorite. 

“I like ‘I can't help falling in love’?” he answered. Conner gagged and Clark smiled at him with too much pity. “But I think I'm with Conner from those two choices.” Conner cheered and leapt onto his bed. He jumped up and down cheering as Clark frowned at them. 

“You both have terrible taste,” Clark said and changed the song. 

Conner squawked and brandished his toothbrush at his brother demanding that he take it back. After a few more minutes of arguing he took his turn in the shower and when he came out Clark was asleep on the bed with Conner drooling on his shoulder. He woke Clark up and told him to shower before kissing him goodnight. 

-

The rain didn't stop the next morning or afternoon even though the weather report had promised nothing but clear skies. Clark could tell that it was wearing at Bruce’s patience. If there was one thing he'd learned in the last year it was that Bruce didn't like to deviate from his schedule. If he said he would be somewhere at ten, he was there at ten. He had an unnatural ability to never be early or late- just on time. And he absolutely hated when something prevented it from happening. 

Conner, on the other hand, was absolutely thrilled to run around the hotel. It wasn't overly large but it was much nicer than any place he'd ever been. They spent the morning watching the waves from the window of the cafe. Conner told Clark all of the things he needed to do better on the ice and everything that Bruce was amazing at. But Bruce was still in a funk when Clark came back from the office area and handed him three printed tickets. 

He blinked at them. “What is this?” he asked, handing them off to Conner when he asked to see. 

“The concierge told me that the bay aquarium is one of the best in the country,” Clark explained, “and mostly inside.” He winked elbowing his boyfriend. 

Conner squenched his nose up, “Are there sharks?” he asked. 

Clark rolled his eyes. “There are sharks,” he confirmed very seriously. 

“Cool!” Conner beamed. And left them to go grab his jacket from the room. 

He took the rare minute alone to pull the chair out next to Bruce. He pulled on the leg of his chair until he was angled towards him and gave his hand a squeeze. 

“Hey,” he said softly, urging him to smile by poking at the wrinkle of his brow. “Haven't you heard? There are sharks.” Bruce laughed despite himself and Clark kissed him. “I'm sorry Jason isn't here,” he said softly. “I know that's what's really bothering you. I promise that as soon as I'm back in his good graces the three of us can go to Alaska or England or Toronto or-" Bruce kissed him again to shut him up. Or at least that was all it was meant to be, but sleeping apart last night quickly turned the peck into something a little warmer. 

Bruce pulled back, eyes lidded and examining every once of Clark's mesmerized face. “But what are you going to do to get back in my good graces?” he teased. 

Clark knew his grin was a stupid one, but there was no stopping it. “I can think of a few things,” he muttered, the hand that he had left on Bruce’s knee traveling along the inner seam of his jeans, biting his lip when Bruce caught his hand and glared at him. 

“They better find us a new room,” Bruce grumbled, as Conner ran back into the now empty cafe to declare that he was ready to go.

The hotel provided them with umbrellas and they walked the mile to Cannery Row. Even overcast Monterey was beautiful. It smelled like salt and rain and everyone was kind. More than a few mothers stopped them to say what a sweet family they were and Con didn't even argue with her, he just grinned at his feet and grabbed Clark's arm. 

The aquarium wasn't too crowded. There were families here and there, most of them with small kids who were running from tank to tank with big eyes. They let Conner tell them where to go, and Clark was surprised to see how genuinely interested he was in the fish. They read the plaques and talked non-stop between each exhibit until they reached the shark room. Conner ran up against the glass to watch the swim in their giant tank. The room was set up like an amphitheater, the benches all on a incline so everyone got a good view. Clark lead Bruce up a few empty benches and stopped about halfway to the top. They sat and watched Con and the fish, verbally wondering if they had ever been that excited about anything before. 

The rain turned to mist just long enough for them to find a restaurant off the wharf. They ate dinner and talked about the fish. About how Bruce was when he was a kid and different vacations they had been on. By the time they got back to the hotel the rain was back in full force and it lulled them to sleep. 

It was still going the next day so they decided to spend it in. Clark convinced Bruce to take Conner to the hotel spa to get pedicures, something Conner thought was hilarious, and called down to the front desk for extra blankets and sheets. By the time they got back he had transformed the entire room into a giant pillow fort that he had deemed the Taj Mahal of pillow forts. They watched old comedies and horror movies. Finally ending up on the Mighty Ducks after Clark admitted he'd never seen it when they saw it on demand. Conner fell asleep halfway through it but Bruce insisted they finish just so they could spend a little bit longer as alone as they could get. 

On their last day in California the rain finally let up, giving way to a misty sunshine. They drove up to San Francisco and spent the day along the beach, eating chowder out of bread bowls and running from seagulls. They hopped on a ferry and went to Alcatraz. 

“This is creepy,” Conner muttered as soon as they stepped onto the island looking up at the prison as he stepped back against Clark’s chest. 

Bruce made a face and looked up at it too. “I think it's pretty.” He shrugged and looked back at the brothers. “In a gothic way,” Bruce explained. 

“You're pretty in a gothic way,” Clark muttered lamely and kissed his cheek as he groaned at him. 

“Both of you are gross!” Conner told them sticking his tongue out and running a few steps away before leading them up the path to the rest of the group. 

They signed up for an actual tour instead of the audio one and Conner leaned headlong into it, trying to seem braver than he was. Clark only poked at him a little bit, mostly because Bruce pinched him anytime he thought about scaring him. They stopped at the solitary confinement cell. “And this is is one of the most allegedly haunted parts of the prison. Thousands of men have stayed in this room for days on end with no light and no human interactions. They used to pop buttons off their shirts and throw them around the cell to find it again. Just to have something to do.” There was a mutter around the group as he opened the door. “Some say that you can still hear the button clattering around.” More muttering and the guide smiled, “Would anyone like to see what it's like to spend five minutes in the cell?” 

“He’ll do it!” Conner offered shoving Clark forward with a wicked grin. The tour guide smiled so hard at him that he didn't know how to decline. 

“I, uh,” he cleared his throat as he was put on the spot. “I’m not fond of the dark,” he admitted. 

The tour guide looked like he was about to let him off the hook when Bruce stepped up. “I'll go with him,” he offered. “If that's allowed?” The tour guide nodded emphatically, obviously recognizing who they were in the moment and let them in. 

Clark looked over at him, wondering what had Bruce smirking at the closing door. “Your five minutes start now!” the guide said and then the door shut out all light and sound. 

It only took too seconds for Bruce to find him and lick his way into Clark's mouth. The thrill of being blind immediately chased by the days of not being able to touch his boyfriend. He barely held back his groan as he pressed Bruce back into a corner and grabbed a handful of his ass. “We need a new room,” Clark breathed and lifted Bruce off the ground, using the wall as leverage. He needed him closer. “Or a bigger bathroom. We need-” he swallowed the hitch in Bruce's breath, “-something,” he whispered voice trembling with need. 

Bruce struggled to get his feet back down. As soon as he did he switched their positions, Clark readily relinquishing control. He palmed Clark's pants and clamped his hand over his mouth to block the resulting moan. “Watching you with Con has been fucking torture,” he told him. Bruce's hand slipped to the back of his neck. He pulled him in and kissed him hard. “I'll get the room,” he promised and Clark melted into him, having no doubt that he would come through. He closed his eyes even though he couldn't see anything anyway as Bruce sank to his knees. 

They had barely put themselves back together by the time the door opened. Even then, more than a few people gave him knowing grins, glancing up at his messy hair. “What happened?” Conner demanded as soon as they got back to him. “Why do you look like that?” 

“He saw a ghost,” Bruce whispered like it was a secret, the smirk Clark threw him sexy enough to stop his heart. 

“Are you for real!?” Conner demanded. 

Clark laughed and flattened his hair. “I’ll tell you about it later,” he promised and prodded him forward. “Now c’mon, we’re falling behind.” 

-

He texted Misty before they'd even finished the tour. She had been Selina's assistant for almost 8 years and could work magic. She texted him back a winky face and told him she'd get on it. 

Clark told Conner about the ghost as they were leaving. One of the moms from their tour snickered into her hand as she passed. Bruce grinned at her and started asking Clark questions about the ghost. Clark shot him a look, but Conner demanded an answer. He kept smiling as Clark struggled to make up a story. They stopped for burgers on their way back to the hotel. Clark was telling the origin story about the toy monster that Conner had gotten with his meal when the concierge called out to them from across the lobby. 

“Mr. Wayne. I just got off the phone with your associate,” he looked a little pale as he mentioned Misty. “We've found a suite for you tonight.” He took the key cards and promised he'd be back with their current room keys in few minutes. The man waved him off still looking concerned. 

“What did you do to the guy?” Clark asked in the elevator. 

“I asked Misty if she could check for any room availabilities.” 

“That's it?” Clark didn't seem to believe him. “Little Misty?” Clark held his hand up at about Misty's height. “She's the sweetest thing. I mean all the black was a little intimidating at first, but really? He looked like he'd seen a ghost.” 

“Ghosts aren't in the hotel are they?” Conner asked his eyes wide as he looked up at Clark. 

“No. Of course not,” Clark soothed and pulled Conner against him briefly. 

They packed up their things and moved into their new rooms. Clark decided he wanted to rebuild his pillow fort and spent three trips up and down the elevator with piles of sheets and pillows. He helped Conner start rebuilding between piles. They spent the rest of the night watching cartoons and making sure that Alcatraz hadn't scared him too much. He'd seemed really excited at first, but the more they had talked about the haunting the more that he had clung to them. Conner fell asleep in the middle of the fort. They left him there and headed for their room once they were sure he was down for the night.

He pressed Clark against the door as soon as it shut and made quick work of unbuttoning Clark's pants. Clark's breaths came in pants as he pulled him free. He pumped him slowly and continued pushing down his jeans. Clark arched off the door but he pushed him back against it. His back hit the wood and Clark's eyes opened, pupils blown wide and full of heat. Pressing forward he let go and captured Clark's lips. He rocked slowly against Clark's dick, tasting each murmur against his mouth. He caught Clark's hand when he reach for him and pressed it back against the door. 

“It's my turn tonight,” he whispered against Clark's neck. He pulled back and looked Clark up and down. His eyes were hooded and his hand was twitching to wrap around his own dick to give himself some relief, but he didn't move it from where it was resting against his hip. Bruce grinned and pulled him away from the door toward the bed. He loved fucking Clark, but he loved getting fucked by Clark even more, so it wasn't something they did very often. Clark looked over his shoulder at him as he stepped out of his jeans, kicking them free from where they'd been pooled around his ankles. He stripped himself as Clark crawled across the bed and grabbed a pillow. He watched as Clark hugged the pillow and shifted his knees wider until he was in a comfortable arch, ass in the air waiting. 

“Fuck babe,” he sighed and joined him on the bed. Leaning over to kiss Clark. It had the added bonus of causing his dick to slide against Clark. He shifted a few times before pulling away. Clark pressed his face into the pillow, but kept his eyes on him as he moved back. He kissed his hip before trailing more across Clark's ass. Clark gasped, moaning into the pillow when Bruce's tongue swiped across his entrance. He gave him a second to catch his breath before doing it again. Clark's noises got louder as he licked his way deeper. The pillow muffled most of them. He wished they were back at Clark's apartment so he could hear him lose control, screaming as he came. Instead he spent his time pulling every sound that he could out of the man trembling before him. 

“B, please,” Clark begged. His face was flushed, eyes glossy as he looked back at him. Bruce pulled Clark up and kissed him. Clark bit at his lip, frantic to keep him close. He took that time to slick himself up before pushing in. He swallowed Clark's long moan. He rocked slowly in and out, Clark shifting above him in an opposing rhythm. Each noise Clark made he caught. Their meetings got harder, faster. Clark widened his legs and fell back to the pillow. He pulled Clark's hips up slightly and slammed in. Clark's groan was stifled by the fluff. He leaned forward pressing a kiss to the back of his neck before pushing up and thrusting again. Each time deeper and faster. Clark's noises blended together as he kept up the punishing pace. He reached around and worked Clark's sounds even higher until he was biting the pillow as he screamed his orgasm. As Clark fluttered around him he fell over the edge and bit back his own groan as he came. Clark slumped to the bed. He fell next to him. Clark let out a breathy laugh as he looked over at him. 

“Remind me to thank Misty for getting us a new room when we get back,” He slapped Clark's ass and chuckled. 

Bruce was glad he had insisted they get redressed when Conner crawled into the bed halfway through the night mumbling about there being ghosts in his room. He watched the boy drift back off. Clark had barely woken up, just lifted the blankets and passed back out. It was an odd feeling. This weekend had been full of people calling them a cute family. And Conner reminded him so much of Jason when he was younger. But this kid would be his brother. He looked over to Clark snoring lightly into the pillow. He would be his brother. He knew it would happen one day. He had been thinking about it for a while. Clark had been helping him in the garden a few months after their anniversary. He had mud smeared up half his face and Bruce had had to go back and fix half of what Clark had done, but it had been a good day. A day he wanted to live over and over. 

Clark woke up first surprising no one. He had their bags packed and breakfast spread out in their fort. They ate and spent the next few minutes demolishing their creation. Conner stacked towers of pillows next to the closet, while they folded the sheets and blankets.

Of course they stepped out of the hotel into a perfectly sunny day with a light breeze. They left their bags at the front desk and walked down to the beach. He held onto Clark's hand. A little over a year ago he'd done the same thing without thinking when he should have. Now they didn't have to worry about it. The Mammoths had come around for the most part, a few of their friends across the league had expressed their support. But there were still players that made sure they knew that they disapproved. All because they'd held hands on a beach like this one. Clark let go of his hand and snatched Conner out of the air before he could jump into the waves. 

“We don't have time for you to change,” Clark admonished. 

“But I've never swam in the ocean before.” Conner looked up at them. Then frowned out at the water. 

“Let's fix that. We'll find another flight.” He grabbed Conner and launched him into the water before dragging Clark after him. He had the forethought to toss his phone into his shoes before diving after Conner who was jumping up and down with the waves. Clark splashed him with a fake glare but joined in on their game. Before long Conner started to shiver and they headed back to the hotel. They walked through the lobby and picked up their bags before heading to change in the restrooms near the pool. 

Riding back to Gotham with sand in his shorts wasn't the best feeling. But Conner told his mom that he'd swam in the ocean when they let him call before the flight. Clark had smiled at his brother as he told her all about the trip. The boy passed out half an hour into the flight and slept for the rest of it.

\- 

Gotham was gloomy when they landed. The smell was the first thing that hit him and he couldn't help the smile. He was home. It didn't matter how many places he traveled or how long he'd been gone there was nothing like stepping out into Gotham streets. 

Selina texted him that she'd dropped Jason off at the manor as they landed. He thanked her. She had to fly back out that afternoon. When he got back he let Clark and Conner go raid the kitchen for food and headed up to Jason's room. He knew it was time to get this talk over with he'd been pushing it off for too long. 

“Hey,” he said after knocking. Jason looked up from his phone. He set it down and pulled his knees up. Bruce sat down at the foot of his bed. “Are you still angry with me?”

Jason looked up and dropped his eyes before shaking his head. 

“Okay. We need to talk about your attitude lately.” 

“I haven't had an attitude,” Jason insisted. 

“You have. I let it go on too long. You cannot talk about or to Clark like you have been.” Jason frowned and picked at the beginnings of a tear in the knee of his jeans. “What happened? You used to like him, right?” 

“Yeah,” Jason mumbled. 

“Did something happen?” 

“He's always around.” Jason looked away from him. “We never do anything anymore. You're always with him. Or he has to come too. Then you invited Conner. That trip was supposed to be just us.” Jason's voice cracked. “And you went without me.”

“Jason.” 

“No. You don't want to hang out with me anymore. You don't talk to me. It's like you don't even care.” 

“Jason, of course I care about you.” He moved forward and hugged Jason. It took a moment before Jason's arms wrapped around him. “I'm sorry. I should have spent more time with you. I promise I will.”

“So Clark won't be around as much?” Jason whispered. He pulled back and looked at him. 

“No, that's not what that means. Clark's going to be in my life for a while. Okay? You're important to me, but so is he. I know that you are hurt, but I was hurt that you lied about him to me. You can't do that anymore. I promise to make more time with you can you promise not to lie to me anymore?” 

Jason nodded. 

“Now, let's talk about Roy.” Jason buried his face in his knees. 

“Can we not? I already talked to mom about it.” 

“No, but I still want to talk about it.” 

Jason frowned, but started telling him what he'd talked with his mom about. He asked a few questions, that he'd been too scared to ask his mom. They talked for a while. At the end they both sat and stared at their hands. 

“I just want you to be safe. And your first time should be with someone you trust. Okay?” He paused until Jason looked up at him and nodded. “If it's Roy, then I'd like to meet him. Officially not this ‘Hi Dad Bye Dad’ stuff you've been pulling.” Jason blushed and picked at his knee again. 

“Okay,” Jason agreed. 

“If you want we can go on a trip just the two of us later, before school starts.” Jason looked up and nodded. “You have to at least try to get along with Clark though.” Jason nodded, slower this time. A promise. 

“Oh. And I stole this for you.” He pulled a chunk of rock the size of his pinky nail from his pocket. “Don't tell anyone where you got it or they'll lock me IN Alcatraz.” 

“Oh my god,” Jason groaned. “Never talk again.” Jason kicked at him and booed loudly. “You're so lame. I'm going to hold a press conference just to tell everyone how lame you are.” 

He smiled and dragged Jason down to the kitchen. Clark and Conner waved from where they were chopping up what looked like every vegetable in the fridge and shoving it on the pizza dough spread out on the counter. He took the pepperoni packet and handed some to Jason who shot his father a pointed look as he scooted in next to Clark and said, “Dad said you saw a ghost?” and Conner went off all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prubbs and I were a little over-eager to get this out and life decided it wasn't going to cooperate. We are still going to finish this, but it won't be posted every week like we had originally planned. 
> 
> Thank you for the lovely comments on chapter one. They lifted us up and made us want to keep writing these two losers.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Thanksgiving y'all!
> 
> We hope that you guys are spending the day with the people you love- and if they are the ones that you are forced to love because of familial ties then we hope this story gave you a good break from them. DNA and I loved Bite so much, But when we finished it, we knew that part of the story was done. So what better way to keep it alive than with the best dads ever?
> 
> If you like this story so far, the please subscribe or check back on Thursday for the next chapter. If you find yourself thinking, "Geeze, I wish I could read more of these characters RIGHT NOW" or, "Wow, Jason is freaking adorable, can't we get more of him?"-- You are in luck! This is a prequel to the fic [ Bite Your Tongue ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15987014), that is already finished and waiting for you on our page. 
> 
> We hope you have a SUPER holiday with your BATTY families and loved ones... I'm so sorry. I am so incredibly tired. 
> 
> -Prubbs & DNA


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